The Stumble Prevents The Fall
by Maeneth
Summary: Without knowing how, when or why, I crossed the bridge between reality and fantasy. Now I find myself in between the paragraphs of a world-famous novel and there's a wizard demanding my attendance on a quest. Or rather, on a quite unexpected adventure. - {(Book/Movie-verse)} - {(Possible pairings)}
1. Chapter 1

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**- Chapter One -**

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_"In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. __Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."_

~ J.R.R. Tolkien

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	2. Part I - The Grey Pilgrim

**Author's Note**: I've had a very bad case of writers block the last couple of months and I really needed to do something about it. So I started this little thing. I will give myself a certain amount of time to update this story regularly with a new chapter. But if you guys notice that I'm going back into my old routine and start procrastinating... Well, let's just say you're free to shout at me, pinch or slap me as much as you like.  
I wanted this to be short and simple, but like with most of my writings, I cannot help myself and start expanding. And as the word count will prove, this first chapter is anything but short and as the length will also prove, this first chapter is not that simple. **T_T** I think I'm just really apt on torturing myself.

**Summary**: Without my knowledge the bridge between reality and fantasy has been crossed, and I find myself in between the paragraphs of a world-famous novel. Now, there's a wizard demanding my attendance on a quest. Or rather, on a quite unexpected adventure.

**Extra****: **The story starts out slowly _(I like it that way)_ which might be quite a task for some of you, but stick with it and you will not be disappointed.

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** ~ Part I ~**

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**The Grey Pilgrim**

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The world was peaceful and green. Birds sang their melodious songs and hopped from branch to branch in statuesque trees, filled with fruits of all different sorts, gleaming in the sunlight. The soothing sound of a little rippling river found its way over the glowing landscape and a soft sweet-smelling breeze made the grass dance in a harmonious rhythm.

My hands stroked the tickling blades of grass, slowly trying to comprehend where I was and if this was real.

_If this is a dream_, I thought to myself, _then it is a good dream._

But as my hands touched the ground beneath me, I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I could actually _feel_ it. The soft breeze was not just imagined, it was gently caressing my cheeks and my nose could properly smell the sweetness in the air. My eyes -who had been closed before- blinked rapidly to adjust to the morning rays of the sun. I held up my hand in front of my eyelids to shield them from the -already warm- sunlight and looked around warily.

I was lying on my back on a grassy green hill, my head resting a bit higher then my feet and encircled in a bed of daisies. My hair was spread out and my hands had been folded over my stomach as if I had just taken a much needed nap; or as if I had just woken up from my deathbed, a morbid thought that I pushed back under the surface of my conscience.

On my right I could see a clump of trees filled richly with apples, pears, cherries and the like; and on my left I saw a stream filled with pure white pebbles rolling down the little hill.

At this point I was starting to get very confused. If this wasn't a dream and the scenery around me wasn't just a fig of my imagination, then where in the world was I?

"Well, hello there!" A deep voice called out.

The sudden sound startled me and I rapidly pushed myself upward with my elbows, only to be met by the pondering gaze of an extremely tall man dressed in grey. He was an older man, hunched over slightly and seemingly steadying himself on a wooden staff he held in his hand. Just like his robes -who reached the ground- his beard was grey and came to his waist and a pointy grey-blue hat rested on top of his long mane of equally grey hair. His height made him a frightful sight and I would've probably tried to get away from him if his smile hadn't been genuine and his eyes hadn't been sparkling with mirth.

"Err... Hello." I greeted back awkwardly.

"And what is a lovely young Lady-Hobbit like yourself doing here, so far from her Hobbit hole I imagine?" He asked me merrily, a few laugh wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

I tilted my head and arched my eyebrows slightly in confusion. '_Did this old man just call me a Lady-Hobbit?'_ Now, I admit, he was _very_ tall, but that really wasn't a reason for him to call me a Hobbit! The nerve.

"Excuse me, but I am certainly no Hobbit!" I tried to sound polite enough but still couldn't help myself from raising my voice in indignation.

I had heard of these little fantasy-creature long ago when a trilogy of fantasy-movies -'The Lord of the Rings' I remember it was called- came into theatres and my sister had begged me to accompany her, seeing as she was too afraid to face the foul beasts that made their appearance in these films on her own. If my little sister hadn't asked me to come along, I probably would've never watched them myself; Fantasy had never been one of my interests. But I was actually glad that I had seen them because I ended up really enjoying the storyline and the characters. Together with my sister, I even saved up to buy ourselves the Extended DVD boxes. The memory made me turn up the corners of my lips in a small smile and yet my heart didn't seem to agree because it ached in melancholy.

I shook my attention back to the present and thought that even though it had been more than eight years since I had last seen those movies, I still clearly remembered what a Hobbit was and I, for one, was **not** a Hobbit.

"Oh?" The old man questioned. "Are you quite certain of that?"

He kept on smiling as if he had great pleasure in this conversation, but to my taste, it had just gone sour. I parted my lips to give him a snarky reply and make it clear that I was not pleased with the comparison, when my eyes flitted over my feet and I choked on the words in my mouth.

They were _huge_! Much larger than I remembered them to be.

I gasped in shock and started to look myself over minutely, trying to see any other changes, and to my horror I discovered many. My rear and chest area seemed to have enlarged somewhat, my hair was slightly different, more curly, and my ears felt bigger and pointier then I was used of them.

I shot upward and ran, stumbling, towards the little streaming river so I could hold my face over it and use the clear water as a mirror. To my relief my face itself hadn't changed, but my hair was now a wavy, almost curly, mess of red whereas before it had been as straight as an arrow. The ears looked completely alien to me; at least twice their normal size and going upward until their pointy end.

I began to stroke my hair and touch my ears gently, as if I was afraid they would fall off if I was too rash and impatient. I was so engrossed in my own reflection that I didn't notice the old man had come to stand right behind me, casting a long shadow in the grass just next to me.

"Are you not feeling well, my Lady?" He asked me, curiosity in his voice and a hint of concern.

For the second time his voice startled me and I quickly pushed myself on my feet and looked up into those smiling blue eyes, framed in grey.

"I... Well, that is to say... I- I just..." I was too astonished to properly answer him. Instead I felt dizzy from the height difference and asked him the first thing that came to mind and bothered me. "How tall are you?"

"Pardon me?" The old man asked in confusion.

I took a breath and calmed myself before politely asking again, "Could you tell me how tall you are, sir?"

The old man drew his eyebrows together and looked at me with an inquisitive eye, giving me the feeling that he was able to see inside my head and read my thoughts. He took his time to answer me and my calm and independent nature seemed to falter under his gaze. I sucked in my bottom lip out of nervousness, a bad habit I had had since as long as I could remember, and had a good mind to just turn around and run to safer havens when he finally graced me with an answer.

"I am about six feet tall, my Lady."

"Six feet?" I was taken aback. "That's not possible." I managed to exclaim, craning my head in order to see his face properly.

"And why is that?" The old man switched his staff to his other hand and inclined his head further down so he could study my facial expressions better.

"Be- Because..." I stammered. "Because I'm 5.7 feet tall." I faltered. "Or I was..."

The old man arched an eyebrow and peered even steadier into my eyes as if he wanted to see if I was being genuine, telling the truth. That guess wasn't so far from the reality because the next thing he told me made my head spin in a very unpleasant way.

"My Lady, I am sorry to tell you that you are incorrect. From my guess you are about..." He looked me over and measured me by levelling his hand with my head and comparing it to the length of his staff. "... About four feet tall. Which is actually not that small for a female Hobbit."

My heart started to pound rapidly in my chest and I widened my eyes in shock at his statement, nearly popping them out entirely in the process.

"Not possible." I mumbled to myself. "This is not possible."

My head suddenly felt very heavy and I screwed my eyes shut, lowered my head slowly and clutched my sides while I tried to keep my breathing steady. I swallowed hard and managed to calm down, getting myself together before the old man -who stood now directly in front of me- would accuse me next of being mentally instable and carry me to some sort of insane asylum.

I looked around again at the green landscape and hoped my next question wouldn't get the answer I feared. "Do you know where we are? I mean... What is the name of this place?"

Now the old man really looked intrigued. -Which was rather odd because I had assumed he was going to look at me as if I was crazy for asking something that was probably a very silly question in his eyes. He simply tilted his head to the side in a quizzical manner and answered me with an honest expression.

"We are just beyond the low hills of Bywater and alongside the road to Hobbiton." He looked at my confused face and added, "We are in the Shire, my Lady."

As I was used to by now, my fears had just been realized and I groaned in silent frustration. A pounding headache started to rise between my eyes and I scowled at the painful beats of my heart that resounded in my ears. I rubbed my eyes in frustration and willed my mind to think of a logical explanation for this.

My discomfort must have been easy to read on my face because the old man could barely contain his curiosity any longer and found it was now his time to ask me a question.

"Why do you look so surprised by this news, my Lady? Surely, this is where you live?"

There was no disbelief in his voice, no judgements or hints of suspicion; he sounded as honest as gold and it made my usual defensive walls crumble ever so mildly.

No, this was not where I lived. I wasn't a Hobbit, I was just a normal _Human_ girl living in the East End of London, England. In a flat that was far too small for my own taste and still reeked faintly of mould and dust after several vicious spring cleanings. I was 22 years old and worked in a cosy coffee shop, earning just enough money to accommodate myself with the bare necessities.

"No." I Breathed. "No, I- I don't..." I shook my head. "I don't live here." The panic resounded in my voice and mirrored itself in my facial expressions as I rambled on. "I am not even supposed to be here... No! What am I saying?! This place shouldn't even exist! The Shire... That's just an imaginary place in an imaginary world! This cannot be real! It's a dream, it's a dream..."

In my panic I didn't realize I had been pulling on the ends of my hair in frustration until big warm hands enveloped my own gently and untangled my fingers from the messy red curls. I swallowed the last of my exclamations and looked up into those bright blue eyes of a man who must by now probably think that I was completely insane. But instead I found he was just smiling mildly at me and softly squeezing my little hands in an effort to calm and comfort me.

"There now, little one." He shushed me, like a father would soothe a distressed child. "Why don't you tell me what made you react so frightfully to my question?" The crinkles around his eyes deepened as his smile grew in an attempt to encourage me.

I shook my head no, my frown once more in place. "You will not believe me." I said barely audible, afraid of this odd man judging me.

He laughed at that, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated in my own chest through our connected hands. He squeezed my fingers one last time before releasing them and setting himself cross-legged beside me on the grass. "I might surprise you, young one." He said. "And I might also be able to help you." He added before bringing out a very long pipe from his right sleeve and lighting it with a snap of his fingers.

I stared it this clear show of magic with astonishment and looked the old man over with a different eye. "Are you a wizard?" I asked bluntly before I even had the chance to stop myself.

He looked straight into my eyes and nodded once, taking a long draft of his pipe and blowing out a cloud of smoke that materialised itself into a galloping horse, its mane flowing in the breeze, running ever higher towards the clouds before it vanished from view.

My eyes had been mesmerized by the smoke-figurine and my mouth was the perfect shape of a small circle as I rounded my head back to the old man, who I knew now was clearly a wizard.

"I am called Gandalf the Grey and I am one of the five Istari -the brotherhood of wizards- who guard the lands of Middle Earth." He said it so casually, as if it was no great deal or as if it was common knowledge to most.

I decided that it must be the latter and wondered why it was that his name spoke to me. It was like I could hear the 'click' of realisation in my mind as I realized I knew this old wizard's name and I barely managed to keep my footing any longer as I sat myself on a flowery patch of grass next to him, staring wide-eyed to the side of his face.

I studied his profile quietly, noticing the intelligence that shone in his bright blue eyes and the long years of wandering that showed in the lines on his face. If I had been more attentive before then I would've probably noticed these details sooner and wouldn't have seen him as _just_ an old man. I cursed myself silently for the panic I had displayed before him and needed to prove now -if only for my own pride- that I would not be so easily charmed in revealing my past by the show of some cheap magic trick.

"Why should I believe you?" I challenged, a scowl plastered on my face. "Who says you are not just here to laugh at my expense?" And I mentally jested in afterthought. _Who says this is all real and not just a very lifelike illusion?_

The wizard turned his head slowly and gazed down at me with stern eyes. He took another long draft of his pipe before he answered, and I could hear in his voice that he was not at all too pleased with my accusations.

"I have no bad intentions towards you, my Lady." He said. "Nor would I laugh at anything you have to say. I can sense that you are in some sort of distress and the only thoughts I have regarding yourself is to help you."

He didn't sound particularly angry, but his words made me somewhat cringe nonetheless. A deep feeling of shame settled over me and reached my cheeks in a matter of seconds, colouring them rosy-red and showing the outside world that I was not proud of my plaint.

I pulled up my knees to my chest, hugging them with my arms and bowed my head, making my chin rest on my knees. In doing so, I successfully avoided the wizard's unwavering gaze as I meekly apologized for my rudeness with a half-hearted and barely audible "I'm sorry".

It was apparently enough of an apology for Gandalf as he chuckled lightly at my motions. "Now, why don't you start telling me where you live, if not here?"

My earlier suspicions made place for a longing feeling to tell this kind old wizard who I was and where I actually came from and I tried to blink the headache -that was still pounding away- from my mind and lifted the scowl from my face.

"I think I come from another world." I started.

I told him about my mouldy flat in London, about my underpaid job and my lack of luxuries. I told him my age and that I had a younger sister named Audrey. But when I wanted to tell him more about her, my memories failed me and the only thing I could seem to remember was her face: round and friendly with big blue eyes and wavy chocolate locks of collarbone-length hair. I racked my brain for more, but it was like someone had opened up my skull and had taken most of my memories out, leaving only enough for me to enjoy the most basic form of my past. All the rest was pitch black.

"Ugh!" I groaned as I screwed my eyes shut and gripped my head firmly, hoping that more would come to me if I just squeezed my brain hard enough. "I know I had parents, but I don't even- I- I don't even know what they look like... Or if they're still alive."

Gandalf hushed me in an attempt to stop me from squashing my own head together, but needed to actively take my hands again to halt my jerky movements.

"It seems like you have lost part of your memory." He told me in a serious tone of voice.

I needed to repress the sarcastic comment of _'You don't say?'_ that came bubbling up from the pit of my stomach but eventually couldn't stop myself from raising my eyebrows with the same intention. Either Gandalf didn't notice this or he was just to engrossed in my story to care, since he didn't say anything about it.

"Tell me, little one, do you remember anything -anything at all- of the moments before you woke up here?" He asked.

I looked from our entwined hands to the wizard's face and scrunched up my features, searching my memories thoroughly to try and remember something, anything. As I closed my eyes again to concentrate, a little vision seemed to light up into the back of my head and enlarged like a flame in front of my closed eyes. When I had a clear sense of what it was I was looking at, I silently started to phrase out loud what I was seeing.

_I was wearing a somewhat torn skinny jeans, black brogues, a green tank top with a grey knitted cardigan covering my shoulders from the windy day and a large leather bag was slung over my left side. My hair was pulled back in a straight ponytail, making the freckles on my face impossible to be unseen and I had big glasses atop of my nose. _

This simple fact almost made me slip out of the memory, because I was clearly not wearing glasses anymore and I wondered how it was possible that I could see so sharply. But before I was completely distracted, I willed myself to concentrate back on the moving image in my head.

_I pulled out a bundle of keys from my pocket and proceeded towards the large grey building right in front of me. I unlocked the door and took the stairs, quickly jumping from step to step until I reached the seventh floor. There I walked into the adjacent hallway towards a burgundy coloured door -the only door in that colour- and unlocked it with a different key then the first one. I entered the small flat that I somewhat had managed to decorate in attempts to give it a cosy feel. I swung my bag on the chaise-longue and skipped towards the kitchen where I started to boil some water in order to make myself a cup of tea._

When I saw myself humming an upbeat tune and sporting the small smile on my face, I was certain that at that moment I must've felt really happy because of something. But as hard as I tried to remember what was making me almost skip around in joy -an act, I could recall, did only happen rarely- it just wouldn't come to me. So I begrudgingly settled on watching this weird display of the movie that was my life.

_I steadily put my steaming mug of tea on the coffee table before flopping myself onto the sofa whilst kicking of my shoes. I searched around the cracks in its tattered fabric until I found the remote and started watching the News on television._

So far I had the feeling this had been my every day routine and thought I wouldn't find anything unusual to explain why I had suddenly woken up in the Shire, as a Hobbit. That was until my Human self dropped her mug of tea and it splintered loudly into a thousand pieces on the floor.

_I was staring wide-eyed at a news report and had bleached visibly to whatever information it had showed me. Before I could really concentrate on the news report itself and find out what on earth had scared me so, there was a knock on the door and my past self sprung up from the sofa as if she had just been pinched. I spiralled back the way I had come and approached the door while asking the person on the other side to tell me who it was. There must've been an answer because my skin resembled the colour of a sheet now and my hands shook as a grabbed for the door handle. I saw the muscles in my face change from fear, to a thoughtful expression, to complete anger and I furiously pulled the door open._

_And then there was only blackness._

My eyes shot abruptly open and I looked at Gandalf with a frightful expression on my face. Something on the other side of that door made my blood run cold, and that something -or someone- had made me end up here.

"Can you remember anything else after that?" The wizard asked me, his inquisitive mind peaking and his eyes filled with something akin to anxiety. "Do you know who stood on the other side of the door?"

He still had a hold on one of my hands, enveloping it with his own, and he kept on squeezing it reassuringly, trying to encourage me into remembering more. I shut my eyes again and tried to feel around in every corner of my mind. But the more I tried to reach a memory that I knew had been there once, the more I could feel the piercing pain behind my eyes magnify. I knew I had come close to something important, something I should know about, but the ever-growing headache became too much to handle, so I reluctantly opened my eyes and released a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

"No." I said defeated. "I cannot remember who it was, nor anything else." I looked up into the wizard's eyes and frowned unhappily. "It's like something or someone has wiped away my memories."

Gandalf hummed thoughtfully, releasing my hand for the second time that day and taking another long drag of his pipe. It seemed to me that whatever content he was smoking was doing a good job in calming his nerves down and I longingly wondered if it would do the same for me. But I shook that thought away as quickly as it came. I didn't smoke, or at least I remembered I had quit smoking long ago and didn't intend to start again.

The wizard looked very thoughtful and started mumbling things to himself, both in English and in languages that I didn't understand. Suddenly he straightened himself onto his feet and stuffed his pipe back in his sleeve.

"Well, it seems that you will have to accompany me, my Lady." He said.

I arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Accompany you?" I asked. "Where to?"

"To a Hobbit, like yourself, who will be encouraged to share in an adventure." He smiled warmly at me. "I think you would better do the same."

To say I was dumbstruck was an understatement. I had just spilled my heart and soul out to this wandering wizard and the only thing he could come up with to ease my mental suffering was the mention of going on an adventure. Now, that really didn't sound very helpful to me at all.

I stood up as well and noticed for the first time that I wasn't wearing jeans anymore, but a snowy white dress that reached just above my bare feet and was drawn together at the waist. It gave my small -and somewhat widened- frame a smooth hourglass figure. I would've admired it longer, if my thoughts hadn't been somewhere else completely and I started frowning again.

"And how will going on an adventure help me?" I asked with pursed lips.

Gandalf gathered his staff and turned around to face me again, the laugh wrinkles around his eyes forming once more. "If it is in my power, we will pass a place on this quest where there lives a wise Lord -wiser then me- who will be able to help you, young one."

"Oh." I said surprised, not thinking he was actually going to offer a helpful reply.

"Are you coming?" Gandalf asked me but didn't wait for an affirmative.

He turned around, his robes flying softly in the breeze, stepped down the little hill and towards the winding road ahead. I sighed momentarily. This whole adventure-business didn't sound like something I would want to be a part of, but if it would lead me to someone who could answer my many questions and who would perhaps be able to send me back home... That longing thought made my feet move on their own, in pursuit of the wandering wizard.

Besides, it was not like I had anywhere else to go.

I managed to catch up with Gandalf's long legs and tried to keep my footing as he strode along the sandy road.

"Ah!" Gandalf suddenly exclaimed and turned to look at my half-running form beside him. He slowed down considerably as he realised my short legs had difficulty keeping up with his long strides and chuckled mildly. "Forgive me my Lady, I've forgotten my manners!" He laughed.

"How so?" I asked, thinking his manners had been far more pleasant than those of anyone else I had probably met before.

"I have told you my name, but I did not even ask for yours." He said. "Would you be so kind as to tell me your name, young Lady?" His eyes twinkled in delight.

I let out a small laugh at the wizard's amused face. It was the first joyous sound that had come out of my mouth since I had first woken up here.

"Lillian." I said. "My name is Lillian Darrow."

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_**~ Will be continued ~**_

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**Author's Note****: **I'm not very familiar with First Person storytelling, so feedback on that as very much appreciated. As are reviews in general.


	3. Part II - Several Good Mornings

**Author's Note****: **Thank you for the Follows on this story and a special thank you to '_Immer wenn es Dunkel Wird'_ for the review. Enjoy chapter two, where we meet the lovely Bilbo Baggins.

**Extra****: **The pharagraps where there is a (*) at the end are complete sentences taken from the 'The Lord of the Rings' books and/or movies.

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**~ Part II ~**

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**Several Good Mornings**

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The small sandy road wound on, past rolling green hills and neatly tended fields, and nothing out of the ordinary showed itself in the scenery. It was only until I saw the first Hobbit hole on the borders of Hobbiton that I was hit with the sudden reality of it all. Its bright green door was tucked in snuggly under the overhang of a grassy hillock and a shiny brass doorknob was placed right in the middle of it. The front garden was overflowing with wildflowers and a Hobbit with curly ash blonde hair was tending to a small field of pumpkins and cabbages just next to -what I presumed was- his home.

It all looked so peaceful.

Gandalf kept a steady but slow pace which I was grateful for, seeing as my short legs could hardly keep up with his normally long strides. I was still struggling with the fact that I had somehow changed into this odd little Hobbit-creature and to be truthful: I did not like being this short, at all.

I had always been one of the tallest girls in my class and was envied for my long and slender legs. Yes, you could say I was one of those lucky ones who could wear short skirts or skinny jeans and actually look good in them. Now it seemed like my legs had been cut in half and a giant foot had been placed where my knee used to be. But what I found even worse was that what I had lost in height, seemed to have replaced itself in width. To put it short: from my own point of view I thought I looked fat.

But that miserable thought flitted away almost as quickly as it had come when I saw my first genuine female Hobbit. She had a wild bush of brown curls with additional big brown eyes and was almost twice my size in width, and when Gandalf and I passed by I noticed that she was at least four inches shorter then myself.

This insight made my spirits lift considerably and I held up my head a little higher, not that insecure anymore about my own Hobbit-fied appearance.

The further we travelled over the winding road, the more Hobbit holes where visible in every little glowing hillside. Most of its inhabitants were already up and about, strolling along their front porch or taking the same sandy road as Gandalf and myself towards the market place in the centre of this merry village.

The Hobbits were curious creatures and were all impudent enough to actually stop whatever they were doing to give us a good look-over when we passed them by. I thought they would mostly be awed by Gandalf in his long grey robes, but it made me a bit uncomfortable to see that most of them were glancing in _my_ general direction and were furiously whispering to one another whilst giving me inquisitive and almost judging looks.

"Gandalf?" I asked "I have the unsavoury feeling that the Hobbits are looking at me like I'm something of a peculiar piece of meat." I paused, scowling in the direction of one rather fat Hobbit who stared at me with eyes as wide as saucers. "Why is that?"

The wizard chuckled loudly at my question and I frowned up at him, sending him a look that clearly stated I was anything _but_ amused at the visible screening I got from the Hobbits around us. It either looked like they were seconds away from jumping me and roast me over a fire, or like they had seen a ghost from ages past and didn't dare to come any closer.

"I can make an accurate guess as to why they seem to have such an interest in you." Gandalf told me, his eyes lighting up in delight.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, annoyed that he didn't just answer my question instead of discernibly enjoying my discomfort. I arched an eyebrow and inclined my head closer to the wizard. "Well?" I insisted.

"It could be because you are walking beside myself." Gandalf said. "They might be wondering who you are to stroll so easily alongside a wizard."

"Are they afraid of you then?" I asked surprised.

"Afraid?" Gandalf smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, no. Not afraid. They're just somewhat on their guard." And he added smiling cunningly, like he was immensely proud of this, "I might have a bit of a reputation around the Shire."

I crooked up the corners of my lips in an unbelieving smile. "Really? What sort of reputation?"

"Oh, well." He retaliated. "You will probably find it not that exciting." He mumbled, avoiding the question.

I smirked, knowing full well how to play this game and shrugged my shoulders, feigning disinterest. "Hmm." I hummed. "Probably not."

Now _that_ reaction had taken the wizard by surprise. He looked sideways at me with a somewhat disgruntled look but I kept my gaze directly in front of me, pretending to be entirely more fascinated by my surroundings then the so-called 'bad reputation' of my travelling companion.

I heard Gandalf scrape his throat next to me and I looked up, searching for his pondering eyes, with the most innocent expression on my face that I could muster. Inclining my head quizzically, I hummed in answer, knowing he wanted to tell me what he had unsuccessfully tried to mumble away before.

"You would not be interested," He tried to clarify his former statement, "because I presumed you did not know anything about the Hobbits' way of life."

Another smirk graced my features as Gandalf started his explanation. It was very interesting to know more about the little creatures which -Gandalf told me- I should better start calling my 'kin' for the time being.

"Hobbits have been living and farming in the four farthings of the Shire for many hundreds of years. Quite content to ignore and be ignored by the world of the 'big folk'." He began. "Middle Earth being after all full of strange creatures beyond count, Hobbits seem of little importance, being neither renowned as great warriors nor counted among the very wise." (*)

I chuckled at that statement as we just passed a Hobbit with unfortunate floppy ears and a rather unintelligent expression on his face. But strangely so, I felt rather slighted by that remark as well. It seemed to me that I was starting to get more attached to my Hobbit-self and I couldn't yet decipher if I was okay with that sentiment or not.

"In fact, it has been remarked by some that Hobbits' only real passion is for food. A rather unfair observation," Gandalf stated, "as they have also developed a keen interest in the brewing of ales and the smoking of pipe-weed. But where their hearts truly lie is in peace and quiet, and good tilled earth. For every Hobbit shares a love for all things that grow." The wizard's smile grew fond and he ended his account with a statement that I could find myself in as well. "To others their ways must seem quite quaint, but it is brought home to me that it is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life." (*)

I hummed in agreement as we now walked past the market place and up the slope of a rather impressive looking hill. On the corner of an intersection I could see a wooden signpost and on the arrow that we decided to follow were the words 'Bag End', written in big swirly letters. The road was more desolate here but I could still feel the eyes of the inquisitive Hobbits burning profoundly into my back.

"So, now that I know all this." I said, raising both an eyebrow and a corner of my mouth. "Is it alright for me to ask what sort of reputation you have hanging onto your name?"

Gandalf sighed but actually answered my question in a more straightaway manner then I would've expected. "The last time I visited the Shire, I distinctly remember hearing someone label me as 'Gandalf, disturber of the peace'."

I couldn't help but snort out a laugh. "That's your reputation?!" I asked unbelievably.

The wizard scowled in my general direction but I was too stuck in a fit of uncharacteristic giggles to pay his annoyance for myself and my reaction any heed. He grumbled something about my obscure expectations and quickened his pace in reprisal as I hopped on after him, a stupid smirk plastered on my face.

"But my reputation -as amusing as it sounds to you- was not the reason why the other Hobbits gave you a queer eye." Gandalf said and he looked sideways at me with an almost ireful grin on his face. "It's because your style of dress is only worn as undergarment."

Now I should've presumed that his facial expression indicated that it was payback-time, but his statement still caught me completely off guard. My eyes grew as wide as saucers and my face burned with embarrassment, giving it the same colour as my flaming hair.

"I'm walking around in my underwear?!" I hissed confoundedly whilst trying to somehow lace the dress tighter around me in an attempt to cover myself up more, which didn't work in the slightest. "Why didn't you say so sooner?!"

But Gandalf ignored my enraged outburst as we took a final corner in the long snake-like road and came upon one of the largest Hobbit holes that I had seen so far. We stopped right in front of it where, on a wooden bench in his front garden, sat a Hobbit with brown curly hair, a genteel face and closed eyes. Leaning peacefully back against his wooden support and smoking a long pipe, he looked absolutely peaceful and uncaring of whatever was surrounding him.

I opened my mouth to ask Gandalf if this was the Hobbit we were searching for but he saw my intention and quickly shushed me by holding a long finger against his lips. I scowled at first but settled on watching the conversation between the wizard and the Hobbit unfold before my eyes, half hiding myself behind Gandalf's long grey robes.

The Hobbit blew out a trail of smoke as he sighed peacefully, a content smile on his face, and wiggled himself in a more comfortable position on the cushioned bench. I saw Gandalf's eyes light up and his lips curl in amusement as he turned the ring of smoke into a veiled butterfly with just a flick of his hand and turned it around to fly straight at the Hobbit's nose. This startled the poor little creature and he opened his eyes -which were big and brown just like my own, I noticed- after sneezing loudly and looked up at the tall stranger before him with an uncomprehending expression.

"Good morning." He said to Gandalf, shifting his face into a polite but somewhat preserved expression.

"What do you mean?" Gandalf asked and I could see he was fighting an amused smile. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?" I silently laughed at the wizard's answer and saw the poor Hobbit's expression fall back into one of confusion. "Or perhaps you mean to say you feel good this particular morning?" Gandalf continued. "Or are you simple stating that this is a morning to be good on."

The Hobbit flicked his gaze sideways and back in perplexity before he answered, "All of them at once I suppose."

This was clearly not the answer Gandalf wanted to hear and the wandering wizard grunted in disappointment. The little Hobbit clearly didn't know what he had said wrong and resorted to looking sideways again, his pipe still in his mouth which now hung slightly open. He caught my eyes as he did so and his rather confused expression now deepened even more as he clearly couldn't exactly piece my presence into this already very odd puzzle. I couldn't help but feel rather sorry for the guy as I imagined being in his shoes -or rather, his big leathery and hairy feet- and thought that I would've probably reacted the same way.

"Can I help you?" He asked, his eyes now back on Gandalf.

"That remains to be seen." Gandalf grunted, his face contorting into a very thoughtful expression. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." He lifted his eyebrows at that and gazed hopefully in the Hobbit's direction.

The Hobbit was so shocked by this that his pipe fell out of his mouth. "An adventure?" He repeated incredulously. "No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures!" He exclaimed, seemingly offended at the mention of such an un-Hobbit-like word. He jumped up from his spot to open up his mailbox and pulled out a thick pile of letters whilst mindlessly rambling on. "Adventures, adventures... Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that'll make you late for dinner."

The little Hobbit started mumbling at the post he had just received but carefully looked up at times to see if the wizard was still there. Seeing as Gandalf and myself hadn't moved from our spot yet, he decided to end this conversation quickly and took a final long drag of his pipe.

"Well,..." He looked one last time at Gandalf and myself and wished us another "good morning" in farewell before quickly sprinting up the steps to the round front door of his Hobbit hole.

But before he could disappear into the safety of his home, Gandalf took a few steps closer and stopped him with an exclamation that didn't hide the fact that he was rather offended. "To think that I should have lived to be 'good-morninged' by Belladonna Took's son! As if I was selling buttons at the door!"

The little Hobbit abruptly turned around and looked wide-eyed at the stranger who had just uttered his late mother's name. "Beg your pardon?" He asked shocked.

Gandalf shook his head in disapproval. "You've changed and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

I was happy to finely learn this Hobbit's name, because it would've been rather exhausting if I had to keep calling him 'The Hobbit' for the entire time I was supposed to be here. His name also made a little bell in my head ring loudly and I was curiously trying to comprehend the fact that I knew that name, that I had heard it before. My own curiosity for this Bilbo Baggins peeked and I took a few steps closer as well until I was standing next to Gandalf's tall figure again. My movement got Bilbo's belated attention and he startled at my sudden proximity, flitting his big brown eyes from the wizard to myself.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Bilbo asked as he pointed his pipe alternately to me and Gandalf.

Gandalf put a hand on my shoulder and softly ushered me through the front porch and up the steps towards where my fellow Hobbit was standing. As I came face to face with the now very confused Bilbo Baggins, I noticed that I was just an inch taller than him and that he also had freckles on his nose and cheekbones, though my own were far more numerous and far more visible due to my red hair and pale skin. Bilbo's skin was more sun-kissed as he probably spent more time outdoors tending to his many flowers.

I willed myself to lift the corners of my mouth in an awkward smile and started to reach out my hand as I was about to introduce myself, but Gandalf had beaten me to it.

"This is Lady Lillian Darrow. She's a long ways away from home and you would do better to show her some hospitality." He explained.

Bilbo looked at me as if I had just grown an extra head and I could do nothing more to ease his astonishment then stare at him sheepishly, a small apologetic smile showing itself on my face as a counterweight for Gandalf's bluntness.

The poor Hobbit stuttered some more before remembering his manners and he bowed his head in greeting. "I will be pleased to see to your comfort, my Lady." He addressed me, his cheeks colouring slightly as he looked me over from top to toe before he blushed completely red and averted his gaze by staring at his own hairy feet.

I wondered what had made him so uncomfortable when I suddenly remembered the conversation between Gandalf and myself earlier and the realisation that dawned on me made my cheekbones flush just as red as well.

"Erm... I know I'm not properly dressed." I said and thought of some excuse to explain my odd appearance with, thinking that this Hobbit would have a harder time believing my story then the wizard. "I think I was a bit, erm... distracted when I walked out my front door this morning."

Bilbo dared to look up at me and met my eyes briefly before mumbling something that sounded like, "Oh... O- Okay... Tha- that, erm... Happens to the best of us."

I heard Gandalf chuckle at our odd interaction and I couldn't stop the scowl from appearing on my face as I stared back at the wizard in what I hoped was a judging look. But Gandalf seemed to blatantly ignore my attempts to make him feel -even if it was just a little bit- guilty at making such a show of myself and poor Mr. Baggins.

The latter one seemed to have come out of his previous daze as he stopped staring at his feet and snapped back to reality, questioning Gandalf once more in order to give himself some more clarity to the situation.

"And do I know you?" He pointed with his pipe at the wizard.

"Well, you know my name. Although you don't remember I belong to it." The wizard answered grumpily and then almost shouted out, "I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means... " He seemed at a loss for words. "me!"

I smirked at that and thought it was high time for me to say something as well, so I addressed Bilbo but kept my eyes on the wizard, a wicked smile spreading on my face. "You know, Gandalf the disturber of the peace?" I tried to clarify innocently to Bilbo.

My comment made Gandalf's mouth reduce to a thin line and he raised in eyebrow at me, both daring me to continue further and praising me for my boldness. I suspected he knew that he had something like that coming. I looked back at Bilbo and tilted my head slightly, wondering if my additional information had had any effect on the Hobbit and judging by his next series of exclamations, it had clearly stroked the sidelines of a memory.

"Gandalf?" A bright light of recognition went on in Bilbo's eyes. "Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard, who made such excellent fireworks?! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve." He chuckled at the fond remembrance, but his smile disappeared as he puffed on his pipe again. "I had no idea you were still in business." He said rather unimpressed.

Gandalf had been pleased that he hadn't been entirely forgotten but that last statement made his face fall and he replied hotly, "And where else should I be?"

Bilbo let out a nervous laugh, noticing full well that he had struck a sore vein. "Where else?..." He scraped his throat and his eyes met mine as if he was trying to tell me _'Well, not here in front of my house!'_ and I smiled amusedly at his facial expression. The Hobbit fumbled with the long wooden pipe in his hands before taking another long draft of it, probably to ease his nerves and the light shake of his hands.

Gandalf's features softened considerably as he grumbled on, "Well I'm pleased to find you remember something of me. Even if it is only my fireworks."

The wizard and the Hobbit's conversation had mostly been reduced to background noises for myself as I had been wandering further up the steps to Bilbo's home and was now admiring the little lantern that hung in between the front door and one of the various little circular windows. The round door itself was painted a bright green and even the flowerpots that stood on opposites of its entrance where painted in illuminating colours such as daffodil-yellow and pumpkin-orange. There were all sorts of sweet smells coming from the narrow crack in the door and I couldn't help my curiosity from peeking, eager to see how these Hobbit holes would look like from the inside.

" Yes, well that's decided." I heard Gandalf exclaim and I turned around to observe what he had to say. "It'll be very good for you and most amusing for me." He continued with an enjoyable smile. "Lady Lillian, I will leave you to the hospitality of Mr. Baggins for the time being." He addressed me. "I shall go now to inform the others."

"Inform the who? What? No, no! N- Wait!" Bilbo exclaimed and he sprinted to the top of the stairs, unconsciously grabbing my upper arm to make sure I was following, safely away from that utter oddball of a wizard. "We do not want any adventures here! Thank yo- Not today, not ever!" He continued, pushing his front door entirely open and coaxing me inside, his eyes not leaving the wizard's, afraid turning his back on him might be the last thing he ever did. "I suggest you try over the hill or across the water." Bilbo pointed in the direction he meant and stumbled over his own threshold, following me inside. "Good morning." He offered as a final farewell, banging his door shut as quickly as possible, leaning his back against it and securely putting the lock in place.

I watched how Bilbo breathed out a relieved sigh at his narrow escape and how he was about to say something to me when I saw his expression change to that of wonder. At first I didn't realise what had gotten the Hobbit's attention, but then my extra-large ears proved to be more than just a physical attribute as it dawned on me that there was a noise coming from outside. It sounded like someone was scratching onto Bilbo's front door and said Hobbit quickly tripled towards one of his circular windows to look outside. I looked over his shoulder but the only thing I saw was Gandalf closing the gate of Bilbo's fence behind him and walk away while humming some upbeat tune.

"Well, I hope that's the last we see of him." Bilbo said wearily.

I breathed out loudly through my nose, for I had the strange sensation that this would absolutely not be the last time we would be seeing Gandalf, but I refrained from explaining my own gut-feeling and just mumbled silently, "I wouldn't count on it."

But Bilbo did not pay attention to what I was saying, far too relieved with these turn of events. He turned towards me, smiling brightly. "Now!" He exclaimed and clapped his hands together. "I do believe it is time for second breakfast."

I spent the remainder of the day eating more then I had ever eaten before in one single day and I remembered Gandalf telling me about Hobbits great love for food with mild retaliation and a sore stomach. In between second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon and afternoon tea, I was given a tour in and around Bilbo's home which -according to the proud master of the house himself- had always been called 'Bag End'.

The house was lovely to say the least. Thick woollen carpets upon clean wooden floors, colourfully painted walls with the occasional drawn portraits of relatives or frames of sceneries securely pinned onto them, memorabilia of all sorts perfectly positioned in their designed spots, all sorts of drying and sweet-smelling herbs and flowers hanging from the ceilings and a pantry stuffed to the brim with all the food you could scarcely imagine.

"Life in the Shire always goes on, very much as it has this past age, full of its own comings and goings with chance coming slowly, if it comes at all. For things are made to endure in the Shire, passing from one generation to the next. There's always been a Baggins living here, under the hill in Bag End and there always will be." He had said. (*)

At the fall of twilight Bilbo had lead me to one of the spare bedrooms in his Hobbit hole and pointed me towards the wardrobe that stood in the far corner. Inside were a series of dresses, skirts, blouses, jackets and shawls which Bilbo explained to me once belonged to his late mother. He had kept her clothes because they had been made of the finest silks and muslins, and it would've been a shame to just throw them away. But even though he tried to hide it well, I saw in his eyes that these clothes also served a sentimental value, a tangible memory of his beloved mother.

So you can imagine my astonishment when Bilbo told me I could use any dress, skirt or jacket I wanted, so that I would be presentable for the outer public if the need arose. I tried to protest and told him that I couldn't accept such a generous gesture, but he told me in return that if a respectable Hobbit -like himself- offers you something then you should just take it, because you would only offend him by being humble and not accept the gift.

"Right then." He said. " Why don't you get cleaned up and dressed?" He hummed. "And I will start dinner."

My stomach protested heavily to another truckload of food but I ignored it and smiled at the friendly Hobbit. "Thank you." I said. "For everything." I added.

Bilbo waved my gratitude away and chuckled. "Not at all! I like visitors." He said. "It has been my pleasure."

He bowed his head politely and turned around to walk towards his pantry while I was left with a closet full of dresses and the vexing inability to pick out the one outfit that I liked. For as far as I could search my memories these cute, colourful and frilly dresses didn't exactly correspond with my usual taste in clothes. From what I could vaguely remember, I tried to avoid the clothes that would make me stand out; I found it more agreeable to just blend into the crowd with my unadventurous jeans, tank tops and sweaters. The only thing I took pride in was making these mundane outfits personal by adding the vaguest hints of accessories and originalities.

But now that I found myself in this new world, magically modified into an entirely different race, my personal tastes had seemingly changed somewhat as I picked something out that I would have never even considered before but which I thought looked very Hobbit-y and the idea made me smile. I pulled out a white blouse embroidered with fine green lines, a brown skirt with matching suspenders that reached the middle of my calves and an elaborate green waistcoat with buttons on the front and a maze of lace on the back to tighten it around the waist.

My hair had never been this curly before so I had absolutely no idea how to manage it. I simply pulled back the two frontal strands of red curls on either side of my head and secured it together on the back of my head with a little flowery hairclip I had found in one of the drawers.

Looking myself over in the grand mirror I twirled my skirt around and relished in the elevated feel it gave me. I had to admit, looking like this, being in this comfy Hobbit hole with a full stomach and nothing to worry about, I felt strangely at home.

A fine-smelling perfume of buttered fish, sage, parsley, baked tomatoes and potatoes made me snap out of my tranquil daydream and I realised bitterly that all of this was still a hard nut to crack. I shouldn't be feeling so at ease and I shouldn't be feeling so comfortable fitting into this new world, in this new me. I still had questions that needed to be answered and for all I knew, I could be waking up in my old home in the real world once I decided to close my eyes here.

I silently reprimanded myself and willed my mind to keep a rational thought as I wandered into the kitchen were Bilbo was just finishing up our dinner. He placed two full plates steadily onto his little dining table when he looked up and saw me standing -fully dressed- in the doorway.

"That looks very good on you." He said and I didn't know if the redness on his cheeks was because he had just been standing over a fire or because he was struck by my image.

I smiled a small smile. "Thank you." I replied.

"I must look very poorly to you in my nightgown." He chuckled and I noticed how he tightened the wool belt of the colourful chequered piece of clothing a little tighter around the waist.

"Oh, not at all!" I exclaimed. "I think it suits you very well."

"Yes, well." He mumbled shyly, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Have a seat. We wouldn't want our dinner to get cold, now would we?"

I did have to admit that his attire made me think a bit of Ebenezer Scrooge from 'A Christmas Carol', but I decided not to say that out loud. Nodding politely at Bilbo I took a seat right in front of him and complimented him on his cooking skills, a change in conversation he was very happy about.

We made ourselves comfortable and started talking about nothing in particular whilst Bilbo showed me how to perfectly season the fish to my own taste, crumbling salt over it and demonstrating how to correctly squeeze the lemon on the side while I bit my tongue, trying to ignore the ambiguous images that last action gave me. As a reciprocal service -and because I had been educated in proper table manners- I poured out some wine into the two crystal glasses that Bilbo had placed on the table and buttered a piece of bread both for my host and myself.

Everything was peaceful, quiet and enjoyable. Until that first knock on the door...

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_**~ Will be continued ~**_

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**Author's Note****: **Reviews are the cupcakes to my soul!


	4. Part III - An Unexpected Party

**Author's Note****: **Hello to all the new Followers of this story and a special -thank you- to my reviewers for Part II: '_Immer wenn es dunkel wird'_, '_Sponti'_ and '_Phantomessangel'_. Thank you all for the encouraging words, it helps me to write this story down.

Nothing to report for this part, so on with the story!

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**~ Part III ~**

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**An Unexpected Party**

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Bilbo looked up from his still untouched plate of food and knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at the knock on the door and the ringing of the doorbell immediately after. "Now who could that be?"

I shrugged my shoulders in ignorance at his question, though I assumed that the only one who would be so bold to come knocking on little Hobbit doors was possibly Gandalf. Maybe he had come back to take me along with him on this adventure he had spoken of before. But seeing as Bilbo had been so happy to be left alone by the wizard and because I didn't want to upset him, I stayed silent.

"Shall I open the door?" I asked, thinking that my face would be a more welcoming one to Gandalf then Bilbo's.

"No, no." Bilbo shook his head and gestured for me to keep seated. "You start on your dinner before it gets cold. I'll go."

I did what I was told and stayed where I was, gingerly rolling my food around with my fork so that Bilbo could think I was busy eating while in fact my ears were pointed sharply in order to note if my earlier suspicions where correct and anticipated to hear the friendly, yet booming, voice of Gandalf.

I heard Bilbo opening his round front door and a gruff low voice echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen where I was currently seated, and I only registered one thing: it didn't sound anything like Gandalf's voice, at all.

"Dwalin, at yer service." I heard it say.

Poor Bilbo must've been rather taken aback by the appearance of this stranger in the doorway because I could distinctly hear him squeak. "Err... Bilbo Baggins, at yours." I heard him stutter.

Heavy footsteps could be heard marching inside of the Hobbit hole just as I heard Bilbo ask, "Do we know each other?"

That question got answered with a rather rude and inconsiderate, "No."

My curiosity peaked at this statement and I couldn't help from putting up an air of suspicion, listening carefully to whomever had just entered Bilbo's home. For, as it was in all worlds and would be no different in this strange -yet fascinating- world, it was probably better not to invite people into your house you didn't already know, thus my level of awareness increased with every heavy footstep coming closer.

"Which way, laddie? Is it down here?" The stranger asked in that same inconsiderate tune.

"Is what down where?" I heard Bilbo ask.

"Supper." The stranger said matter-of-factly. "He said there'd be food and lots of it."

"He said?" Bilbo questioned. "Who said?"

But the stranger had no intention of answering the bumbling Hobbit anymore as he had spotted the kitchen and was now making his way towards the fine-smelling dinner that stood on the table.

I heard the heavy footsteps now right behind me. I couldn't contain myself anymore and whipped my head around to look at the unwelcome visitor. I had a judging scowl on my face to make him know that I was not at all pleased by his rude demeanour towards Mr. Bilbo, who had been nothing but the nicest host I had ever encountered -for as far as I could remember, at least- towards myself; but one look in this stranger's direction made me choke on any unfriendly remarks I was about to spew, made my jaw drop in astonishment and my eyes widen like saucers.

The guy was _huge_. He was at least one feet and several inches taller than both Bilbo and myself and the width of his shoulders was almost the same length as my current height. He had enormously muscled arms and giant calloused hands with knuckledusters adorning all of his beefy fingers except for his thumbs. His shiny head was bald on top but was still adorned with intricate tattoos running all over his scalp, the same tattoo designs that could be seen on his arms and probably on other parts of his body as well. Above all that he had a remainder of dark long hair falling down his back and a pointy beard together with equally dark beady eyes.

He was not tall and lean enough to be considered a Man, so my guess was that here, right in front of me, stood a Dwarf, and a frightening example at that.

I could now fully understand Bilbo's little squeak from earlier and had to refrain from doing so myself as the Dwarf inelegantly swung himself on the stool in front of me where Bilbo had been seated just moments ago, making the ground vibrate with the impact, and positioned his enormous battle-axe on his right side, letting it lean onto the mantelpiece behind him.

He merely acknowledged my presence with a nod and an accompanied grunt before he -quite literally- attacked the contents of Bilbo's plate.

Both Bilbo and I watched in shocked silence how the Dwarf -Dwalin, I remembered his introduction- scoffed down the entire meal in mere minutes. I was sure my nose was scrunched up entirely in disgust as I witnessed this foul display of Dwarvish table manners and sincerely hoped that he was the only one I had to encounter with this horrendous lack of conduct.

I was just about to excuse myself from the table and pull Bilbo to the side in order to have a little chat with him on the subject of uncivilized Dwarves and construct some sort of plan on how to gently remove this one from the premises, when the Dwarf in question suddenly looked up and eyed my plate with obvious interest and hunger.

"Are ye going to finish that?" The dwarf asked just when he ripped of the entire head of the buttered fish that should have been Bilbo's dinner moments before -slimy eyes and all- and started munching on it with ferocious devotion.

"Not anymore, no." I answered, consciously looking away when my stomach churned at the sight in front of me and shoved my plate in his direction with a disgusted look on my face.

Bilbo and I watched in resumed union how Dwalin once again stuffed his face full of fish, potatoes and tomatoes, all in record time. But his appetite was apparently bottomless as he put a hand on his belly and addressed the wide-eyed master of the house.

"Very good this." He complimented. "Any more?"

"What?" Bilbo seemed to come out of a daze, but quickly remembered his ever-polite manners. "O- Oh... yes, yes." He said as he stood up to retrieve a plate of bread buns and held it out to his new guest. "Help yourself."

I saw Bilbo slipping one single bun behind his back, securely safeguarding it from the monstrous appetite of this menacing-looking Dwarf. He directed his gaze once at me and then back to Dwalin before inhaling slowly, gathering his wits about him and addressing the Dwarf with renewed presence.

"It's just that... I wasn't expecting company." He said meekly.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang for the second time that evening and Dwalin looked up at the startled Hobbit with a grin on his face, his mouth still stuffed full with food and breadcrumbs nestling themselves into his beard.

"That'll be the door." He said almost mockingly.

Bilbo rushed once more to his front door and opened it to reveal another Dwarf, though this one seemed far less menacing than the first one and I silently thanked whoever they prayed for here for that. I had followed Bilbo, not in the least wanting to stay in the same room as that bottomless pit of endless hunger, and looked at this new visitor from a spot above Mr. Baggins right shoulder.

This Dwarf looked a lot older then the first, with white hair and a pointy white beard that was parted in the middle and a few deep wrinkles in his otherwise friendly-looking face. His attire consisted of mostly red hues and colours, and looked richly embroidered with all sorts of intricate stitching.

"Balin, at your service." He said pleasantly and bowed lowly, almost making his long and crooked nose touch his knees.

Bilbo turned around at me with a desperate look in his eyes. He clearly didn't understand what was going on. And though I was inclined to feel the same way, a spark of remembrance enlightened itself in my brain and I could hear Gandalf's voice now very clearly resonating in my head: _'I shall inform the others.'_

The only explanation I could think of for these Dwarves to suddenly appear on Mr. Bilbo's doorstep had probably something to do with that slick old wizard and his promise of an adventure. But even so, I was still not entirely sure that what I had just realised was the actual truth, so I refrained from mentioning any of my suspicions to Bilbo as he would most likely not appreciate the thought one bit.

"Good evening." Bilbo told the Dwarf politely.

"Yes, yes it is." Balin agreed happily. "Though I think it might rain later." He continued with a serious expression. "Am I late?"

"Late for what?" Bilbo asked wonderingly.

But Balin didn't answer the question as he had just spotted the other Dwarf in the next room trying to wring his large hands into the cookie jar, his appetite still very much present.

"Oh! Haha!" The older Dwarf exclaimed. "Evening brother!"

_So they were brothers_, I thought to myself and the obvious family connection hit me as I compared their names with each other. _Balin and Dwalin... Their parents must've had a weird sense of humour_, I sniggered, a small grin tugging at my lips at the ridiculous realisation.

"Hoho!" Dwalin chuckled heavily. "By my beard, yer shorter and wider then last we met." He jested.

"Wider, not shorter." Balin said slightly annoyed. "And sharp enough for both of us." He countered, grinning widely.

They grasped each other's shoulders firmly in a brotherly gesture, making me think that it must have probably been a long time since the one last saw the other. I was finding this show of brotherly affection quite endearing until they made me jump in shock as they subsequently head-butted each other in greeting.

A cracking noise filled the air and I was sure at least one of them was going to fall down in searing pain, but to my astonishment they just kept on grinning at each other and did not show any sort of disagreement at the blunt head trauma.

_Dwarf heads must be pretty hard_, I thought to myself in amazement.

"Excuse me! Sorry!" Bilbo suddenly piped up and followed the brothers into the next room. "I hate to interrupt," He started, still as politely as ever, "but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house."

But Bilbo's rightful questioning fell on deaf men's ears, as the two Dwarves had discovered the pantry and were now engrossed in silent conversation with each other whilst they inspected the various well-filled shelves of food.

"It's not that I don't like visitors." Bilbo tried to get their attention again. "I like visitors as much as the next hobbit, but I do like to know them _before_ they come visiting."

I thought this was a legitimate observation, but still the two Dwarves ignored Bilbo's stammering voice and had now shifted their attention to a peculiar piece of blue cheese, examining it with keen interest.

I could see that Bilbo was getting more annoyed at the situation every minute and he started wobbling impatiently to and fro on the balls of his feet.

He turned around to address me, his mouth reduced to a thin line in aggravation. "I am saying all of this out loud, am I not?" He asked more rhetorically then in need of a real answer.

I nodded my head. "They just don't seem very keen on listening to what you have to say." I told him and shot an equally annoyed scowl in the Dwarves direction, which went unnoticed by both.

"Well, I won't have it!" Bilbo exclaimed and turned back around to face the Dwarf-brothers.

Just when Bilbo opened his mouth to speak his mind, the peculiar piece of blue cheese from earlier flew right in front of our noses and landed with a -_splotch-_ on the perfectly tiled kitchen floor.

My eyebrows shot upward at this unexpected flying object and the nerve of these Dwarves, but Bilbo didn't say anything about it, probably to keep his calm, for his all-round Hobbit-manners compelled him to stay polite, even if he would like nothing more than to simply kick these inconsiderate visitors out.

"The thing is, I don't know either of you. Not in the slightest." He said as calmly as possible. "I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I'm sorry."

The last words were accompanied by a raise of small Hobbit hands and a tilt of the head. I thought Mr. Bilbo's approach seemed firm but still friendly enough to make it clear that he was not as pleased with their company as they might possibly expect. Both Dwarves immediately stopped their conversation and turned their heads quizzically towards Bilbo, the latter raising an eyebrow in expectation.

"Apology accepted." Balin said cheerfully and they both continued to ignore the Hobbit.

I would've laughed at Bilbo's completely dumbstruck face had it been a more humorous situation. The poor Hobbit looked like he had just received a slap to the face and had still not fully processed the blow yet.

Just at that moment the doorbell rang for a third time and Bilbo turned his head slowly and wide-eyed to the noise, a whimper escaping the thin crack in his lips.

I followed Bilbo back to his front door but kept my distance, noticing his hunched-over form and knowing he could probably use a shoulder to cry on. But for my part I felt emotionally unable to gave him any comfort, I never had been any good at that, and especially so with people I had only just met. So I decided to just stay out of the way and halted my steps a little earlier, leaning onto the doorframe between the kitchen and the hallway, my eyes fixed on the new visitors that appeared on Bilbo's threshold as he opened his front door for the third time that evening.

There were not one, but two Dwarves standing in the doorway this time and I couldn't help but incline my head a bit closer to these new visitors as they looked a lot different -and a lot more agreeable to my taste- from the two who were already inside, making themselves right at home.

The Dwarf on the left had a handsome face with a long straight nose, a trimmed beard and a thick mane of golden hair falling right past his shoulder blades, with several braided strands in it that kept the whole lot together in an elaborate hairstyle. Even the two sides of his moustache were braided. His clothes consisted of some very expensive looking fabric with several complicated insignias and geometric lines on them, all in a brown colour palette with hues of orange and red. On his shoulders he wore a grand cape with a fur collar that made him look like Dwarven royalty, though I wasn't sure if that actually existed.

The Dwarf on the right side had an equally handsome face but aside from that looked completely different from his companion. His nose was much smaller and slightly upturned, making him look some years younger than the blonde beside him. Instead of a beard he had a dark stubble on his prominent jaw line and chin. His hair was a very dark brown and looked a lot less elaborate, with only one single braid on the back of his head, the rest hanging messily around his shoulders. But his clothes looked just as fine-made and expensive as those of the first Dwarf, only his attire was coloured a blue-grey and his cape didn't have the thick fur collar, though there was still some fur to be seen on the fringes and on his sleeves.

"Fili." The first one said. "And Kili." The other one continued. "At your service." They said in unison and bowed lowly, just like Balin had done earlier.

"You must be Mr. Boggins!" The dark one, Kili, proclaimed with big brown eyes and a bright smile on his young face.

_Well, isn't he just adorable._ I thought to myself for a split second and just as quickly I waved the sentiment away, laughing at myself for that ridiculous conception. Instead I concentrated on the likeness of their names, which hadn't escaped my attention, and so I assumed that they were probably brothers as well, though from a first impression I found they looked nothing alike.

"Nope!" Bilbo exclaimed angrily, very much annoyed with all these Dwarves barging into his house. "You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house!" He told them and proceeded to close the door in their faces.

"What?!" Kili exclaimed and put his shoulder against the door, pushing it back open with little effort. "Has it been cancelled?!"

"No one told us." The blonde one, Fili, elaborated.

Bilbo had stumbled backwards from the impact of his own door and was about to fall over. I quickly sprang to his rescue and steadied him back onto his wobbly knees, trying to calm his increasing fits of annoyance and anger with a hand on his shoulder. Though I felt rather awkward by my own action, it seemed to help Bilbo nonetheless and he breathed in slowly in order to keep his calm and his curiosity.

"Cancelled? No, nothing's been cancelled." He said.

"Well, that's a relief." Kili breathed happily and marched on into the hallway.

As the young Dwarf moved past us, I could see that there had been another -smaller- figure hiding behind the two brothers, veiled by the dark of twilight. I couldn't see the person's face as it was covered by the low-hanging hood that belonged to the cape this stranger was wearing, but a sudden sense of dread washed over me when my eyes hovered over the figure. My gaze connected briefly with the stranger's eyes and a sudden piercing ache shot through my head like a lightning bolt. I gasped in surprise at the sudden pain and took a step back, my eyes wide and my hands trembling violently. It was the same blinding and painful sensation I had had only this morning, when I had tried to reach at a memory of my past life and how it had seemed like someone had forcefully wiped out parts of my memory, leaving several holes in its place.

But instead of trying to desperately reach a once existing memory and failing at the task, it felt like my eyes locking with the veiled ones of the stranger made some of the shattered pieces in my brain click back together. The penetrating pain behind my eyes didn't magnify as it had done before, instead it diminished slowly until there was nothing left but a small throbbing headache and the immediate relishing feeling of comprehension.

Fili stepped inside as well with large and heavy footsteps and I was left staring at the hooded and cloaked figure standing motionlessly in the starry-lit sky. None of the others around me -not even attentive Mr. Bilbo- had noticed any change in my demeanour and just kept on babbling.

"He didn't say you were married!" Kili was standing next to me with a huge grin on his face. "You must be Mrs. Boggins!"

But I didn't turn my head to correct his mistake. I didn't even acknowledge that I had clearly heard him. My eyes were fixed on the person right in front of me, a dawning sense of recognition slowly coming into place.

The stranger stiffened visibly at my gaze but kept on staring back, unmoving. It felt like I wasn't the only one going through the path of realization.

"What?! N- No!" Bilbo called out embarrassedly in answer to Kili's exclamation. "I'm not married. Miss Lillian is just-"

"Well, if that's the case." Fili interrupted. "Then it's hardly appropriate to have unwed young women in your home without the proper supervision. Is it not, Mr. Baggins?" He teased.

"She's my guest!" Bilbo squeaked indignantly, but he couldn't hold back the blush that spread over his cheeks.

Kili looked confused at his brother, "I thought you said his name was Boggins." He whispered more to himself than anyone else in the room and received a whack on the back of his head in answer from Fili, a smug smile on his face as he had obviously conceived the little mispronunciation in order to have a laugh at his little brother's expense.

But Kili quickly shrugged his embarrassment away and returned to look at my profile, eyeing my unchanging features carefully and following my line of vision. "Oh!" He exclaimed, as he saw who I was staring at. "Come on in, Miss." He told the stranger and took one of its _-her-_ hands through the doorway in order to drag the cloaked figure inside.

"We found her when we were on our way here." Fili explained and came to stand beside me, having noticed my blatant interest at their travelling companion. "She said she didn't remember how she got here."

"Yes, and it wouldn't have been very chivalrous of us if we had just left a defenceless maiden on the road so we brought her with us." Kili chipped in with a somewhat proud smile on his face, probably remembering some childhood story that told the tale of a fierce warrior-prince and his loving maiden.

It didn't make sense at all why in the world she would be here. But there she was, barely an arms-length away, and real and breathing. My heart swelled in utter joy and I knew now, without a single doubt, who was standing right in front of me.

"Audrey?" I breathed so silently that the sound of my voice seemed to drift away into the darkest corners of the room.

"Lillian?" Came the whispered reply of my sister.

The next moment went by in a blur. My sister jumped up with a squeal of delight and enveloped me in such a bone-crushing hug that I had difficulty freeing my own arms to return the embrace. The hood of her cape had fallen off in the process and I could see that she had gone through a major physical change as well, the most prominent of which was that she now, too, was a Hobbit.

Her dark chocolate-coloured hair had always been more wavy and curly then mine, but this time her hair was one beautiful waterfall of dark ringlets, reaching her collarbone and administered into a side-parting. She was about an inch or two shorter than me, coming at almost the same height as Mr. Bilbo and her curves were more visible then they had been before. Under the dark cloak -that she must have gotten from one of the Dwarf brothers, seeing as it was much too big for her- she wore a similar-looking white dress that I had found myself in when Gandalf had encountered me.

Her big baby-blue eyes filled with tears as she started sobbing into my shoulder, making the other three around us shift uncomfortably on their feet from the odd spectacle before them, not sure if they were actually intruding on something private.

I held myself together and refrained from tearing up as well, though I couldn't help my heart from aching in sudden melancholy at the feel of my baby sister in my arms. But one of us must be the strong one and that task had always been my own. I rubbed my hand in small circles on Audrey's back and heard her calm down gradually until she had ended her emotion-filled outburst with a small series of hiccups.

I was about to ask Mr. Bilbo and the other two if they could give us a moment when Dwalin called out to his fellow Dwarves. "Fili! Kili! Come on, give us a hand."

The two brothers jumped up at the mentioning of their names and rushed towards Dwalin and Balin who were now busy rearranging the furniture in Bilbo's dining room, to the obvious chagrin of the latter.

Said Hobbit had his arms full of the weapons Fili and Kili had unceremoniously shoved into his hands _("Careful with these, I just had them sharpened.")_ and was about to voice his protests when he seemed to think better of himself and turned back towards the enveloped forms of my sister and myself.

"Is everything all right?" He asked me, concern evident in his voice as he eyed the tear-streaked face of my trembling sister.

I nodded my head in silent affirmation but couldn't help from letting a small sigh escape my lips. If Mr. Bilbo only knew that, no, we were far from all right and, no, we didn't have a single clue what we were doing here; but that information could not be spread lightly as it would most likely stem against our believability and would be received with raised eyebrows and undeniable -yet understandable- misfaith.

My sister's reaction had probably arisen from the shock that came with the impact of this world, just like I had been all but hyperventilating when Gandalf had told me we were in Hobbiton, the Shire, Middle Earth; a place that only existed in the bundled forms of various novels.

"Let's shove this in the hallway, otherwise we'll never get everyone in." I could hear Balin instruct.

Bilbo's head whipped back to the Dwarves. "E- Everyone?" He stuttered with wide eyes, the two distressed female Hobbits in his hallway momentarily forgotten. "How many more are there?!"

Just then the bell rang for the fourth time that evening and Bilbo was practically spluttering with anger. "Oh no! No, no, no! There's nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else!" He yelled in frustration. "There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is." He said, dropping all the weapons unceremoniously to the floor and stomping towards the front door. "If this is some blunt-head's idea of a joke, haha! I can only say it is in very poor taste." He laughed humourlessly.

At his last word Bilbo swung the round door open and a whole bunch of Dwarves came tumbling in and landed in a big wiggling pile on the floor, cursing and grunting at each other from their uncomfortable positions.

I looked up at the commotion and my sister gingerly turned her head around to see what was happening as well, though she didn't release me from her firm grip, still clinging onto the one thing _-person-_ she knew and was desperate not to let go.

Right behind the big pile of Dwarves stood the tall figure of the wandering wizard, clad in his grey robes and leaning onto his wooden staff, peeking inside of the hall in search of the Hobbit.

"Gandalf." Bilbo breathed, completely exasperated.

Gandalf gave Bilbo a somewhat apologetic smile for the lack of grace demonstrated by his fellow travelling companions before he looked further into the hallway and locked eyes with me.

His eyes twinkled both in mirth and relief as he saw I was still present, but one look at the trembling bundle in my arms and his bushy eyebrows drew together in confusion. The look swiftly disappeared from his face as he made his way past the group of Dwarves and stepped into the Hobbit hole, bending almost double when crouching under the arched doorway. Some of the Dwarves were still busy helping each other up and those who stood firmly on their two feet again wasted no time in introducing themselves to Mr. Bilbo, who seemed to be in shock as he counted eight more unwanted guests.

Gandalf made his way to Audrey and myself, bowing down slightly so he wouldn't hit his head on the ceiling. As his tall figure draped a long shadow over us, Audrey tensed in my arms and I could feel she was intimidated by the sheer height of the wizard. The expression 'as big as a house' could have never been used so literally.

"Ah, lady Lillian!" He greeted in his booming voice. "I am glad to see you so well."

I was about to argue that I looked just the same as this morning, but thought better of it as I saw Gandalf was gesturing to the dress I was wearing. The feeling that I probably fitted in a lot more in this house then Audrey in her white dress and grey over-sized cape, hadn't escaped my attention either and I made a mental note to address the goodwill of Mr. Bilbo once more in the hope that my sister might lend another one of his late mother's dresses.

"And who might this be?" Gandalf asked amiably, inclining his head to my sister.

Audrey must have liked his friendly tone of voice because she withdrew her head faintly from the safe spot that was the crook of my neck and shoulder and gazed up at the wizard with just the hint of a smile. But words seemed to fail her as she didn't reply to his question, so I took the liberty to introduce her myself.

"My sister." I said curtly. "Audrey."

A look of both shock and understanding covered the wizard's face, but I also saw a glimpse of something else. And even though I was sure that the wizard hadn't meant for me to notice, I was sharp enough to see the emotion flashing in Gandalf's eyes nonetheless and it told me one thing: he actually knew more about our appearances than he was letting on.

My own features scrunched up into a determent facade as I realised this and I addressed the wizard standing tall in front of me, my voice steady and my posture refusing any argument.

"Gandalf, we need to talk."

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_**~ Will be continued ~**_

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**Author's Note****: **I would really like to hear your thoughts on this little plot-twist!


	5. Part IV - Flares Of Anger

**Author's Note:** This part was a whole lot harder to write than the previous ones as it delves deeper into the mind and past of my character(s). I hope I did them justice. Oh! And welcome once more to all the new followers of this story and a special thank you to '_Immer wenn es dunkel wird'_, and '_Phantomessangel'_ for their continuing reviews. Your support means a lot!

Enjoy your read!

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**~ Part IV ~**

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**Flares of Anger**

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I stood with my head held up high and my arms crossed in front of my chest, my eyes refusing to leave Gandalf's face and my eyebrows knitted together in stubborn determination.

The wizard had seated himself in an overly excessive floral-patterned armchair opposite me, which was just wide enough to fit a full-sized Human, but it still looked comical and I would've giggled along with my sister if I hadn't been in quite such a foul mood. Audrey sat in the chaise longue on my right -which was covered in the same matching flowery pattern- with Bilbo's colourful chequered nightgown securely draped over her shoulders.

The friendly Hobbit had given it to her right after he had been unwontedly introduced to the Dwarf who had been the last to scramble off of the floor, a rather unusual sort of hat placed on his dark pigtail-braided hair and a funny smile visible under his moustache. After unsteadily closing the front door, the -still rather miffed- Hobbit had offered to hang the oversized blue cape that Audrey was wearing on the peg in the corner, where it would be accompanied by a mass of different vests, coats and capes, all belonging to the dozen Dwarves who were making themselves readily at home in poor Bilbo's house. But noticing the frail lacy dress she wore underneath, he incoherently spluttered that Audrey was not properly dressed, especially with all these Dwarves running around, so he promptly pulled off his colourful piece of clothing and gave it to her, so she wouldn't be disgraced in the present company. The shy smile that spread across my sisters lips in gratitude had made Bilbo's ears flush scarlet, right before he seemed to remember in fright that the Dwarves were busy sticking their hands in his cupboards and drawers and he had hurried after them into the pantry.

The three of us -Gandalf, Audrey and myself- had retreated into Mr. Bilbo's living room where we were mostly closed off from the tumult that echoed through the open corridors of the house. The noise was caused by the merry band of Dwarves who were plundering Mr. Bilbo's pantry without so much as asking him. They were grabbing anything they could get their hands on whilst the Hobbit in question was running around aimlessly, shouting vigorous protests of "Put that back! Put that back!".

My sister had thankfully calmed down considerably and was in a state of regaining the carefree posture I remembered I was so used of seeing in her: the corners of her lips always turned upwards in the most subtle way, her blue eyes sparkling with youthful enthusiasm and her feet tucked snugly under her upper legs, feeling right at home already. She had always been better in coping with new surroundings, people and situations, as she was able to see only the positive aspects of places and the good in others. Something, I had to admit but never said so out loud, I had always envied my sister for.

She had told me only minutes before how she had found herself lying on a green hillside at the beginning of a dirt road, with no recollection whatsoever of how she came to be there and barely able to grasp any memories of her past life. It had all sounded so familiar to me that I was able to end her sentences when she tried to describe how it felt being unable to remember something, even though you knew you were supposed to know that particular fact. Audrey had phrased it as: "My head feels like a block of Swiss cheese," and I couldn't have agreed more with that sentiment.

She had been in the process of a complete meltdown -which would have probably resulted in her bursting out in tears- as it was already nightfall and she couldn't help but feel frightened at the enclosing darkness in her solitude, when she had been fortunate enough to run into Fili and Kili. The young Dwarf brothers had been eager to help as they spotted both desperation and truth in her eyes, and had taken her with them to Mr. Bilbo's home, where they had arrived only a few minutes later.

I wasn't exactly pleased, nor accepting of the silly notion, when Audrey referred to the young Dwarves as her 'Knights in Shining Armour' and raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a rather unimpressed look. But my sister didn't seem to care about my obviously judging stare as she smiled dreamily at the mention of her rescuers. I would've smacked her upside the head in order to snap her ridiculously over-romantic brain back to reality if I hadn't been so glad to see her smiling so brightly again. It was leastways a blissful improvement from the uncontrolled sobbing from before.

Even though I was somewhat happy to know that Audrey was here as well, a grasp on reality that reminded myself of the real world we had left behind, I was also desperately aware of the fact that this was a world full of peril -even though you would hardly say so when looking at the Shire- and I wished my sister could have been spared the upcoming dangers that I was sure were still to come.

That thought made my attention flit back to Gandalf who still refused to meet my eyes, not in the least attempting to start a conversation or give me any sort of explanation. He even had the audacity to light his long wooden pipe and puff on it carelessly, as if my presence was something that could be veiled by enough clouds of smoke.

My temper rose even more at the action and I practically spat out my accusation, even though I kept a hold on my use of language and the volume of my voice: "I know you have answers for us, Gandalf. And I think we have the right to know."

The wizard closed his eyes and drew his bushy eyebrows together in a glum frown. "I am sorry, but you are mistaken, little one. You would not be aided by anything that I can tell you."

"And what makes you so certain of that?" I growled in increasing agitation.

"Anything I have to say will only confuse you even more than you already are." Gandalf answered me, unfazed.

"How would you know that?" I countered. "We might not look it, but we're tough enough to handle any sort of information that you might find discouraging."

"It would dampen your mood." Gandalf suggested matter-of-factly.

"Dampen our mood for what?!" You could hear the strain in my voice as I tried my hardest to keep it down.

"For what is still to come," Gandalf said, "and that is all I will say on that matter." He concluded the argument as if he was the only one who could decide it while he drew another puff from his pipe and blocked of any retort from my part with a shrug of his shoulders.

That was the last straw.

That simple gesture -a shrug- made it seem like he couldn't care less about our obvious distress, and for all my well-practiced reserve and retained emotions, I could no longer hold back the anger that boiled deeply in the pit of my stomach. Up until this moment I had been successful enough in pushing my fears and uncertainties to the back of my mind, ignoring any sense of dread or fright, but it was like the wall that I had put securely in front of it exploded into a million pieces by that one single shrug of the shoulders. My arms came to hang by my sides and the muscles in my entire body tensed up in rage. I clenched my hands into fists, piercing the palms of my hands with my fingernails, and my eyes flared red with anger.

"Do you have any idea how we feel?!" I hissed and the volume of my voice increased with the waterfall of words that followed. "We wake up in a world that shouldn't even exist with only half of our memory intact while we have been modified into an entirely different race! And you sit there -smoking your _fucking_ pipe- with answers that might just ease our mental suffering, even if it's just a _tiny_ bit, and you tell us we cannot know?! For what?! Because you think we are frail little girls who couldn't handle it?! Or is it because we don't deserve any sort of help from such a mighty person as yourself?! Are we just not worthy enough, is that it?! Bloody -fucking- hell!"

There, I said it. Decorum be damned.

Audrey had cast her gaze downward and was now fidgeting with the rope of Mr. Bilbo's nightgown, trying to distract herself from my outburst, neither contradicting nor agreeing with it.

The rest of the house had become much more quiet, an indication that my shouts hadn't gone unnoticed by Bilbo and the Dwarves, who were probably curious to know what the commotion was about and tried to hush down a bit so they could find out what had gotten me in such a frenzy.

Gandalf had clearly not anticipated my reaction and sat unmoving in the small armchair, his eyes slightly widened and his eyebrows arched high in silent shock. His pipe lingered on his bottom lip, quite forgotten in the sudden commotion and the heightened fixation in the air.

All my well-weighed words left me in the blinding light of frustration. "I'm sick and tired of this rubbish! I want to either wake up right now or get myself some bloody answers!"

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes but I refused to cry, I refused to show any sort of weakness, I refused to give in to those fragile emotions. For some reason the mere thought of myself crying in front of others -especially people I barely knew, like Gandalf- made me clench my jaw in pure stubbornness.

But there was something else as well. The remnants of a voice that resounded in my head, a deep and crude voice that made my blood run cold and reached painfully at one of the holes in my memory; repeating the same sentence all over again: _'Only failures cry. Only failures cry. Only failures cry.' _ It started out silently but magnified with every second I tried to hold back my emotions, ringing ever louder in my ears. I had the immediate urge to obey it, as if I had been trained to react like an emotionless stone, rock-hard in the face of all and everything, untouched by any and every wave of sentimental feelings.

The sudden sniffling sound coming from my right abruptly took me out of the ear-deafening reverie that echoed in my head, leaving a piercing headache in its wake. I ignored the pain as best as I could, though I couldn't stop my eyes from screwing shut momentarily and my brow from drawing together over my eyelids in an attempt to minimize the ache. I saw in the corner of my eye that Gandalf had noticed my change in features and I had the feeling that he knew to some extend what had happened. I would have started shouting at him again at that realisation, but for now the crying form of my sister took its priority.

"I- I'm sorry." She hiccupped as I came to sit beside Audrey and threw an arm around her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "It's ju- just all s- so un- unimaginable a- and I guess I'm st- still not en- entirely o- over the sh- shock."

"Hush." I tried to soothe her, but any other words of comfort failed me as I could still feel the blood pounding in my ears and the piercing pain behind my eyes took far longer to subdue then I would've liked.

"I kn- know you're tr-trying to fig- figure this out," Audrey stammered on and looked at me with watery blue eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, "bu- but I don't th- think shou- shouting is go- going to h- help anyone."

I sighed. "I know."

Even though her words stung -I had only tried to help the both of us and seeing as the friendly approach hadn't had the desired effect, I'd let my emotions get the better of me which resulted in the tirade from earlier- I knew that she was right. That, and the fact that I was currently occupied with trying to keep the strange sensation of a voice echoing of the sides off your skull from my sister as I didn't want her to worry about me; the pain now subdued to a rhythmic throbbing between my ears. So I swallowed any sort of sarcastic remark I would've usually swung her way and settled for the diplomatic approach of conventional silence.

"M- M- Mister Gan- Gandalf?" Audrey tried to address the wizard but was still stammering and unable to form any coherent sentences.

"Shh, calm down." I whispered only for her to hear. "Deep breaths now, come on." I said and patiently helped my sister to ease her breathing.

Slowly but certainly she managed to calm down again an tried once more, "Mister Gandalf, sir?" The sweet tremor in her voice had returned though it was still somewhat raw from crying. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." The wizard said gently and gave Audrey a small smile. "Whether I will be able to answer it or not is an entirely different matter though." He added in a warning afterthought.

I snorted at his comment and rolled my eyes in silent frustration, but refrained from speaking as I had imposed that command upon myself. Though in prescient calculation -as my anger towards the wizard had not yet settled down- I focussed my attention on a specific painting of a glowing green landscape hanging precisely perpendicular onto the wall and did my best to bite back any snide remarks that I might have thrown into the conversation that followed.

"Yes, of course." Audrey said politely and gave the wizard a smile of her own. "I was just wondering if you could tell us how we came to be here?"

"That I cannot say for certain." Gandalf answered her and I was about to roll my eyes again, not at all surprised at his recurring insignificant words. But instead of stopping there, he actually continued speaking. "I do know, however, that there have been others like you: people claiming to be from another world."

"Really?" Audrey's voice lifted in curiosity and her eyes turned bright in wonder.

"Really." Gandalf's eyes crinkled in amusement at my sister's rapturous reaction. "Though the last time such an appearance has been recorded was at the very beginning of the Second Age." The wizard elaborated.

"And in what Age are we now?" Audrey questioned further as she, nor I, had any idea of the time-period we found ourselves in.

"We are in the year 2941 of the Third Age." Gandalf explained and his smile faltered ever so slightly.

"Oh." Audrey breathed out sadly and her face fell.

I could understand her disappointment since I felt it as well and the tingling sensation that had formed itself in my stomach -very much interested in these others and eager to know more of them- disappeared in a single heartbeat, leaving an empty feeling in its wake that reminded me of a deflated balloon.

We might have taken our situation more easily if we could have met some of these kindred spirits, who would've been able to explain some of the conventions of this world to us. But most of all, we might have been encouraged by their life-stories and not feel as alone in our struggles as we did now.

"You should know that there is a great difference between the both of you and these others the records speak off." Gandalf suddenly said, possibly in an attempt to keep our hopes up. "None of them had any sort of memory loss like the both of you clearly suffer from."

The wizard's gaze lingered longer on me than on my sister and I was completely certain of my previous suspicions. In ways unknown to me, Gandalf had been able to sense or see what I had been struggling with just after my sudden lapse of restraint. Though I didn't think he was powerful enough to know the details of my earlier seizure, he still knew -or made the distinct impression- that I had remembered something of my past, even though the crude voice was hardly worth mentioning as the only thing I associated it with was a sense of fear, stubbornness and anger.

"What does that mean?" Audrey had been quiet in order to process Gandalf's statement for a few moments, but I saw on her face that she was confused by the revelation.

"That, I really do not know." Gandalf said and he sounded completely earnest for the first time that evening. "It could be because your passage into Middle Earth didn't went as smooth as it should have gone. Or it could be that those memories you lack were too much of a burden to bear, so your consciences discarded them along the way." He paused and muttered, "The Valar work in mysterious ways."

"The who?" My sister inclined her head in question.

"The Valar were the fourteen Ainur who entered Arda after its creation to give order to the world." Gandalf tried to explain but my sister's facial features mirrored my own expression of complete bewilderment as none of those words (or were they _names _?) sounded familiar to us. The wizard must have been a lot wiser than I originally gave him credit for because he chuckled at our blank expression and worded his previous babble in something that needed no further explanation for either of us. "You would refer to them as 'Gods'."

"Oooh." Audrey exclaimed, her voice full of childlike realisation.

"But I do believe that you will regain your memories on the journey that lies ahead of you." Gandalf turned back to the conversation at hand. "Do not ask me how I know this, because I do not." He quickly added before any of us could bombard him with more questions. "It is just a feeling that I have and those have yet to prove me wrong."

"What journey?" Audrey asked gingerly and looked from Gandalf to me and back to the wizard.

"These Dwarves are not just here for a small gathering." Gandalf smiled and his eyes twinkled with mirth as he saw the eager anticipation in my sister's big blue eyes. "You will find out what has brought them here soon enough. Though it will probably take some convincing before they will accept you into their company." He added thoughtfully and took one last drag from his long pipe before stuffing it back into his grey robes.

"Their company?" Audrey repeated and I could almost see the radars in her brain click together. "Are we to go on some sort of quest with all of these Dwarves?" She sounded more excited than nervous.

Gandalf's smile widened as he was brought back from his own pondering by my sister's delighted voice. "If you can convince their leader, then yes, little one."

Audrey turned to me when hearing that, her eyes wide in ebullience. "Oh, Lillian! Doesn't that sound exciting?"

I furrowed my brow at her. "Very," I said drily. "I can't wait."

But Audrey ignored any hint of sarcasm in my voice and clapped her hands together contently while she continued to beam at nothing in particular in the room, her features showing nothing less than pure excitement.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head slowly in exasperation at my sister's extreme change of demeanour, wondering if anything of importance would ever stick in her head long enough for her to fully understand the gravity of a situation before it was overpopulated once again by rainbows, unicorns and pixie-dust.

But even though her naivety could drive me up a wall at times, I had the most thorough and joy-filled memories of my sister when she was just like this: a carefree and happy person, always in awe of the things around her, always smiling at life, and I found that I liked to see this side of Audrey the most of all.

The tumult in Mr. Bilbo's home had started back up somewhere around my sister's little mental breakdown and it had increased excessively at this point as some of the Dwarves were now wandering around the Hobbit hole, smoking pipes and conversing amiably amongst each other.

In between all the loud grunts and voices, I could still distinguish Bilbo's indignant and angered squeaks of protest.

"We should probably go back to join the others." Gandalf said. "I think our host will be happy to look upon some of his own kin's faces."

Seeing how jittery Mr. Bilbo had been before, he was probably pulling his hair out by now and I wasn't entirely sure that any amount of friendly Hobbit-y faces would help to ease his obvious mental suffering. Even so, I followed Gandalf and Audrey back into the adjacent corridor and headed towards the dining room, hoping there would still be some food left to offer my sister as she had not yet eaten and was probably starving by now, though she didn't make any indication that she was hungry as the jocund sensation from before kept her occupied.

I still hadn't entirely forgiven Gandalf for his unhelpfulness and attitude towards myself, his preference in answering my sister's questions instead of mine and his secretive nature in general, so I intended on giving him the cold shoulder for a while. Did that make me a proud and stubborn person, prone to jealousy? Perhaps.

And even though I despised my own negative traits I didn't believe for a second that I had been in the wrong and it would still take me some time to leave our quarrel behind me.

But my personal poisonous thoughts were interrupted as the three of us bumped into Mr. Bilbo who was busy folding some sort of knitted under-coaster with the greatest care before he put it safely back in one of his many drawers.

"Bebother and confusticate these Dwarves!" The Hobbit swore and I found he looked a lot more flushed than the last time we had seen him. Above that, he seemed ready to start knocking his curly head against the wall.

"My dear Bilbo," Gandalf addressed said Hobbit with an air of pure innocence, "what on earth is the matter?"

"What's the matter?!" Bilbo repeated hotly and his eyebrows arched in disbelief, his cheeks a deep shade of red from all the effort it had taken him in running around frantically, trying to save his belongings from the clumsy grasps of his unwanted guests. "I'm _surrounded_ by Dwarves! What on earth are they doing here?" He added in a frustrated whisper as the two Dwarves nearest to them started a tussle over a length of sausages.

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them." Gandalf said warmly.

"I don't want to get used to them!" Bilbo all but shouted and coaxed Gandalf into the adjusted hallway between the drawing room and the bedrooms.

Audrey and myself followed the wizard and the Hobbit closely, my sister being quite unable to mask her amusement at the whole ordeal though she still had the decency to give poor Mr. Bilbo a look that told me she also felt sorry for him. Which was only rightfully so in my opinion. I wouldn't have liked to be in Bilbo's shoes -well, large and leathery feet, to be exact- if this had been my house and it had been me getting bombarded with a hoard of Dwarves.

Meanwhile, Bilbo was too busy showing Gandalf the wreckage that the Dwarves had left in their wake to give my sister and me any attention. But imagining his state of mind, I didn't hold that against him for a second.

"Look at the state of my kitchen!" Bilbo gestured towards the room which was now splattered with bits of food and drink. "There's mud trod in the carpet," he continued, "they- they- they've _pillaged_ the pantry, and I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing! I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" He ended his tirade with a frustrated stamp of his feet.

Even though the sight of the soiled kitchen made my jaw drop in utter disbelief, I was about to offer Mr. Bilbo that my sister and myself would help him to clean it all up, as far as that was possible. I thought it would be a friendly gesture to show our gratitude for his hospitality (taking me into his house) and his friendliness (giving Audrey his nightgown), but I was cut off by the sound of a quiet, uncertain voice.

" 'Scuse me," it said and a copper-haired Dwarf shuffled into view with a sullied dinner-plate in his hand. He still looked quite young, sporting only a two-inch-beard and wearing a large knitted cardigan. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Bilbo, hands on hips and practically fuming with frustration, couldn't even do so much as open his mouth to respond. He was interrupted by Fili, who was -as far as I could tell- recognizable as the only blonde Dwarf of the group and -more importantly to my sister, as she started giggling like a schoolgirl when he directed the smirk on his handsome face towards her- one of Audrey's 'Knights in Shining Armour'.

"Here you go, Ori. Give it to me." He said, promptly taking the plate from the copper-haired Dwarf and tossing it down the corridor to where his grinning brother, Kili, was standing.

Gandalf had to dodge out of the way as quickly as his size in the squat little Hobbit hole allowed him to and I pushed myself against the wall, pulling Audrey with me in the process, when the plate flew barely mere inches past my ear, not trusting the aim of these Dwarves in the slightest.

Two other pieces of pottery came flying from the dining room in Fili's general direction. He bounced the two bowls -for that was what they were- off his shoulders before flinging them toward his brother as well, who in turn tossed them to someone unseen in the kitchen.

"Excuse me! That's my mother's West Farthing pottery; it's over a hundred years old!" Bilbo shouted, looking on in horror as another plate followed, and another, until the larger part of the company of Dwarves started to participate in the game that was driving the poor Hobbit up the wall.

Some of the Dwarves sat back down around the dinner table and started to pound their thickly-booted feet, stamping the cutlery on the table with their fists and scraping them together in a rhythmic whole, the sound seemingly cutting into Mr. Bilbo's nervous system.

"And can you not do that?! You'll blunt them!" He snapped angrily.

"Ooh, d'you hear that, lads?" One of the Dwarfs sang teasingly and I remembered him as the one with the funny-looking hat. "He says we'll blunt the knives."

As if that last exclamation was the cue, all of the Dwarves suddenly burst into song. Kili and Fili, teasing pests that they were, started it off and by the third verse the others joined in joyously while they kept on throwing plates, bowls and cutlery through the house.

_blunt the knives, bend the forks  
smash the bottles and burn the corks  
chip the glasses and crack the plates  
that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!  
cut the cloth, tread on the fat  
leave the bones on the bedroom mat  
pour the milk on the pantry floor  
splash the wine on every door!  
dump the crocks in a boiling bowl  
pound them up with a thumping pole  
when you've finished, if any are whole,  
send them down the hall to roll  
that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!  
_

Bilbo pushed his way past Fili and two other Dwarves -one of them was the copper-haired youngster from before and the other was sporting a vastly complicated star-like hairdo- and looked frustrated to tears when his eyes fell upon his sturdy wooden kitchen table. Numerous plates and other pottery were precariously stacked upon one another in unstable and slightly askew columns, freshly cleaned and sparkling.

I looked from Mr. Bilbo's dumbstruck expression to the amused faces of the Dwarves as they laughed rumbustiously, drinking from their ale-filled tankards, to Gandalf who had once again pulled out his pipe as he chuckled something incoherently.

"I don't think we'll have much difficulty trying to convince these blunderheads." I whispered into my sister's ear, the latter giggling silently at my unimpressed tone of voice.

"Which one leads this ragtag group, you reckon?" She whispered back in question.

I was about to suggest that Balin looked like the oldest and wisest among them, which seemed like the standard aspects of a leader for as far as I knew, when Gandalf turned out to hear like a bat and answered Audrey's question in my stead, "He is not yet present."

"Oh?" Audrey turned her head to Gandalf, the soft exclamation indicating that she would like some further explanation.

I simply stuck my nose up in the air, scrunched up my brow and pretended never to have heard Gandalf, still not considering myself on speaking terms with the wandering wizard. And my thoughts wandered to our host as I could imagine the presence of yet another Dwarf would not be held in gratitude by dear Bilbo.

Suddenly there were three loud knocks on the front door and the sound echoed through the house, putting an abrupt stop to the noise caused by the congregation of Dwarves.

A heavy silence fell like a thick fog in the gathered group and I saw all eyes darting towards the front door, the features of the Dwarves darkening into meaningful glances and important frowns, a shared breath held in anticipation.

I felt my curiosity peak at the Dwarves mirroring actions and glanced once to my left where Audrey was staring wide-eyed in the direction of Mr. Bilbo's front door, hands clasped together and tucked under her chin in eager anticipation. She seemed to think the same as myself: that we were finally going to find out who this fearsome leader of the Dwarves was.

Gandalf's booming voice cut deeply through the house. "He is here."

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_**~ Will be continued ~**_

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**Author's Note:** I will be without any use of the internet for the following 12 days! So the next update is scheduled a little later than I had originally planned. Thank you for sticking with this story!

**Extra:** And now for your Middle Earth history lesson! (Only for those of you who are interested.) - The Valar are part of the Hierarchy of Spirits that is a major part of the Tolkien Myth. Eru _(the One),_ also called _Ilúvatar_ by the Elves, was the Creator. In his turn He created the angel-like spirits of the Ainur, of which the Valar were the greatest. The Maiar were lesser spirits, but powerful nonetheless, and included Sauron, the Balrogs, the Istari and many others. The Valar have no fixed shape and can remain invisible, but often take the shapes of Men and Elves. They are not gods, though Men often mistake them and worship them as such. They are actually emissaries or regents of Ilúvatar, or Eru, the monotheistic God of the world, who rarely directly intervenes in the world's course of events. The names of the Valar were those known to the Eldar, but in Middle-earth, they were known by other names of Sindarin origin; for example Varda was called Elbereth by the Elves. The dwarves called Aulë, their creator, Mahal.


	6. Part V - Of Dwarf Leaders and White Lies

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry for the delay! But unfortunately, my internet-troubles are still far from over. So the next part will also be a updated little later than planned. Though hopefully I'll be quicker in stealing someone else's internet next time. **;)** I hope there aren't too many mistakes in this part and I hope it's written just as fluently as before, but I have this nagging feeling that it's not. I sure hope I'm wrong. A huge thank you to my reviewers from last time: '_Immer wenn es dunkel wird'_, '_Phantomessangel', 'LandOfTheLivingSkys' and 'LarienSrion'. _You guys are amazing!

Enjoy!

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**~ Part V ~**

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**Of Dwarf Leaders and White Lies**

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Gandalf was the first to react; he swiftly stooped under the kitchen doorway and walked into the parlour in order to open Bilbo's perfectly round front door. He was followed closely by the master of the house himself who was practically dancing anxiously behind the wizard, not sure why all the Dwarves suddenly bore such serious and expectant expressions, quite a difference from the boisterous and joy-filled faces from before. Said Dwarves also followed the wizard towards the parlour where they created a half-moon circle facing the door, awaiting the entrance of their leader with firm stances and heads held up high.

Audrey and myself were the last ones to follow this strange welcoming comity and I guided us to the far back of the party, where we were concealed by the mere width of a very large ginger-haired Dwarf.

My sister looked at me with questioning eyes, not understanding why we had to stand so far to the back as she was barely able to see anything, but I wanted to closely observe this important Dwarf first -his character, his conduct, his manners, his fixations- before I would make my sister's and my presence known. It would give me the ability to firstly form a solid and outweighed scheme before I would have to convince this Dwarf-leader of our request. I did not want to feel as clueless and instable as I had been in my conversation with Gandalf, which had resulted in an uncontrolled outburst of emotions, a momentary lack of reserve I was determined not to show again.

Therefore I had decided for us both that Audrey and I would keep our presence hidden in the shadows for as long as it would take me to gather all the necessary information I required, with the sole purpose of forming the _perfect_ plan, so we would be accepted into this ragtag group of Dwarves, which would take us one step closer to a road of discovery and answered questions.

Or so that was what Gandalf made us believe. I still had my doubts about the old man's sincerity when it came to our appearances into this fantastical world, but seeing as we had no other options, I figured we had no choice but to trust the word of this wandering wizard. For the time being.

The door swung open and there stood a figure of whom I immediately realised would not be an easy one to convince. He was one of the tallest of the Dwarves and was swathed in a heavy travelling cloak, making him look almost as wide as the entire doorframe. His hair was as black as the night-sky above him, a few strands of grey ran through the thick and long mane like little curving streams and two identical braids hung in front of his ears. The feeble light of Mr. Bilbo's hall-lamps illuminated his strong and handsome features; he had a long straight nose, a neatly trimmed beard on the strong curve of his jaw, a brow that seemed stuck in a permanent scowl and the most piercing grey-blue eyes I had ever seen on any man.

Audrey prepared herself to walk around the group of Dwarves in front of us, so she could have a better look at the newcomer -there was only so much you could see by standing on your tippy toes and craning your head to look over the broad shoulders of the Dwarf in front of you- but I grabbed her arm and held her next to me.

"But I cannot see!" She whined more loudly than I would've liked.

"Shh!" I shushed her with a stern expression on my face. "I do not want this Dwarf-leader to notice us just yet." I told her in a hushed voice so that no one could overhear us.

"Whatever for?" She whispered back, confused.

I silently explained the reason for my sudden secretive composure to her and when I was finished Audrey looked at me with searching eyes and a slight tilt of the head. "But why don't we just tell him the truth? Surely he would believe us?"

I furrowed my brow in disbelieve and sighed. "Audrey, you have too much faith in the goodness of people."

She opened her mouth to say something back but I quickly shushed her with a flick of my hand and a finger to my lips, as a conversation arose in the air and I was determined not to miss a word of it.

"Gandalf," The Dwarf on the front porch turned his eyes upward to meet the wizard's gaze, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, _twice._ Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

His voice was deep and had the power to vibrate through your very soul, but I found that the words he said did not exactly scream 'fearless leader' to me. He sounded like every common stubborn man who seems genetically programmed in refusing to ask for directions and in so accepting help from others. The realisation made me roll my eyes.

"Well that sounds reassuring." I muttered to myself.

With two heavy strides the Dwarf now stood in Mr. Bilbo's hallway and pulled at the clasp of his heavy cloak in order to remove it, revealing a beautifully embroidered tunic made of a rich blue fabric, a cloak covered in more fur than any other cloak or cape currently worn in the room and a sword that hung from a heavy belt around his hips. Beside that he was also carrying something that looked -strangely enough- like a piece of a tree branch, but due to the dark and the way it was shielded from my eyes by his cloak, I couldn't be sure.

I noticed how he wore just the hint of a smile on his lips when he nodded his acknowledgment at the two Dwarves who had come to stand nearest to him: Fili and Kili. The similarities in their clothing and features didn't escape my ever-watchful eyes and the possibility that they could be related by blood became more than a mere guess, and quickly turned into an undoubted certainty.

"Mark?" I could hear Bilbo's voice pipe up in indignation. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark. I put it there myself." Gandalf said, glancing down to meet Bilbo's eyes. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company," Gandalf continued quickly -hoping he would distract the Hobbit from the torturous idea of having a scratched door- and gestured towards the newcomer, "Thorin Oakenshield."

_Well, that would explain the piece of wood hanging from his belt._ I thought to myself and flittingly wondered how he had achieved such an unusual last name, thinking that there was probably a grant tale hanging unto such a title.

"So... this is the hobbit." The Dwarf-leader, Thorin Oakenshield, said in a rather unimpressed voice and came to stand in front of Mr. Bilbo who looked quite unnerved and intimidated as the Dwarf was easily a head taller than the Hobbit and twice as wide. "Tell me, mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?" He asked.

"Pardon me?" Bilbo blurted out, wide-eyed at the -to him- ridiculous question.

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Thorin elaborated.

"Well, I do have some skill at Conkers, if you must know," Bilbo said with a proud gleam in his eyes but it quickly disappeared as the imperious gaze of the Dwarf-leader made him hop nervously from one foot to the other, "But I fail to see why that's relevant."

"Thought as much." Thorin remarked with an unpleased tone to his voice and added, a mocking grin thrown over his shoulder at the Dwarves who stood behind him, "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The Dwarves laughed and chuckled at their leader's snide remark, making poor Mr. Bilbo shuffle around uncomfortably and making Gandalf sigh tiredly. Audrey had let out a silent gasp of disbelief as she was probably feeling _very_ sorry now for our host, but I was currently pondering over the fact that the Dwarf had called Bilbo a burglar and I just couldn't fathom the idea of the nice Hobbit being involved in any acts of thievery.

All of the Dwarves -with Gandalf and Bilbo following closely behind- shuffled back through the parlour and into the dining room where something was found for Thorin Oakenshield to eat as he had travelled long and far and was probably very hungry. Since the other Dwarves had eaten almost all of the Hobbit's food, the dinner that was set in front of the Dwarf-leader was a modest steaming bowl of hot stew, filled with big chunks of well-cooked meat. A tankard filled to the brim with ale was placed next to it and Thorin dug in eagerly, though he kept his composure -which looked rather well-mannered as I compared it to my previous encounter of Dwarvish table manners, something that made my own stomach churn at the grotesque memory- and refrained from gobbling everything down in the span of ten seconds. The other Dwarves had quieted down considerably, having only whispered conversations with each other while they slowly sipped their own ales and watched their leader with eager anticipation in their eyes, as if they were waiting for him to say something.

Audrey followed my lead as I sought out a suitable spot where we would be able to follow every word of the informing conversation that was certain to follow, without being noticed by anyone in the room until I -and only _I_- would decide it was time to introduce ourselves. I found such a spot in the covering shadows of the grand dining room cabinet and placed myself just behind Mr. Bilbo -who stood there as well and turned out to be the perfect distraction as he kept on jumping from one foot to the other, barely able to contain his already heavily assaulted nerves.

"What news from the meeting at Ered Luin?" Balin asked when their leader was about halfway his dinner. "Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin nodded. "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

The Dwarves all answered his statement with a general mutter of approval, smiling faces and steady nods. There was even one Dwarf -who was holding some sort of hearing-trumpet to his ear and looked rather old and grey in general- who pumped his fist in the air in glee.

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked their leader and he had to lean past Gandalf to do so as the wizard was seated at Thorin's direct left-hand. "Is Dáin with us?"

Thorin's expression fell and he sighed with a flicker of disappointment. "They will not come," he said heavily. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

I could sense the Dwarves mirroring disappointment as they groaned, sighed or shook their heads in answer to their leader's declaration. Some of them even looked astonished as they had probably expected a different answer all together.

"You're…going on a quest?" Bilbo asked wonderingly, and all heads turned to him so I had to shuffle a bit further away, out of direct view and guided my sister by her hand to do the same.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," Gandalf spoke up and he sounded pleased -and even a tad surprised- that it had been the Hobbit who had broken the silence, "let us have a little more light."

Mr. Bilbo nodded and scuttled out into the adjourning hallway between his dining room and his pantry, in search for candles. Because of the sudden lack of a Hobbit to hide behind, I was forced to basically pin my back against the side of the thick wooden cabinet so at least Gandalf's tall figure shielded me from view.

Audrey, on the other hand, was being far to curious for my taste and leaned into the light so she could have a better look at the map Gandalf pulled out of his robes; he unfolded the frail parchment with care and gave it a place on the dinner table, so that everyone could see it properly.

"Far to the East, over ridges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands…lies a single solitary peak." He said and pointed his finger at a certain spot on the map I couldn't see from where I was standing.

Bilbo returned then with a lit candle in his hand and peered over Thorin Oakenshield's shoulder with an unmistakable gleam of interest in his eyes. "The Lonely Mountain," he read aloud, eyes squinting to read the swirly letters drawn in black ink alongside the picture of one single mountaintop with a red Dragon hovering above it.

"Aye," one of the company exclaimed, another copper-haired Dwarf who sported the bushiest beard of them all. "Óin has read the portents, and the portents say it is _time_."

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold," the Dwarf with the hearing-trumpet, who was apparently called Óin, continued. "'When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end'." He quoted.

Bilbo, who had walked back into the hallway in search for -what I presumed were- more candles, inclined his head back into the dining room, his ears pointed. "Erm... What beast?" he stammered.

"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible. Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age." The Dwarf with the funny hat -whose name I still did not know- said lightly, taking his pipe from between his teeth as he elaborated further, "Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat-hooks…extremely fond of precious metals-"

"Yes, I know what a Dragon is!" Bilbo cut him off with a snap, wringing his hands together nervously.

My eyes widened at Mr. Bilbo's exclamation and I shared a surprised look with my sister. _A Dragon!_ This world had started to feel just a little less strange in the span of a whole day, but the mention of a Dragon had just shattered any sensation of ease I had permitted myself to feel.

At the far corner of the table, young Ori eagerly sprang to his feet. "I'm not afraid! I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" he declared, but was quickly yanked back into his seat by the Dwarf beside him, sporting more braids in his grey hair than any other of his fellow Dwarfs, and sending a reprimanding look at his younger companion.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin spoke up, and the clamour that had arisen from Ori's declaration subsided. "But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best," he said, "nor brightest," he added as an afterthought, his mouth reduced to a thin line.

The other Dwarves started heavily protesting the assault on their intelligence and I could hear various exclamations being thrown around the table; most of them came down to the same outcry of "Hey! Who're you calling dim?!" Except for the elder Dwarf, Oín, who had put his hearing-trumpet back in his ear and only asked with a confused expression, "What? What did he say?"

The rumble of voices broke apart as one of the Dwarves' fist pounded onto the table, his exclamation cutting clearly through the clamour, and I recognized Fili's voice. "We may be few in number, but we're fighters. All of us! To the last Dwarf!"

"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company!" Kili backed his brother's reasoning up with an excited expression plastered on his face. "Gandalf will have killed _hundreds_ of Dragons in his time!"

All the Dwarves were once again rumbling away as they requested tales of Gandalf's great deeds in his encounters with these great fire-breathing beasts, while the wizard himself tried desperately to temper their enthusiasm. "Oh, well, no. I wouldn't say-"

But he was cut off by the Dwarf with the excessive amount of braids "How many then?" he inquired.

"What?" Gandalf asked, looking more bewildered than I had ever seen him.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" the Dwarf explained his earlier question, probably awaiting and anticipating -like all the others seated around the table- a number of monumental proportion.

From where I was standing I could clearly see Thorin raise one eyebrow while he looked at Gandalf in smug amusement, awaiting the answer of the wizard more with glee than with anticipation. But Gandalf didn't reply as he started coughing uncomfortably on his pipe smoke.

The Dwarf jumped from his seat. "Go on! Give us a number!"

Suddenly each Dwarf leapt to their feet and started arguing loudly with each other, brandishing fists and throwing threats in every possible direction. The uproar was ear-deafening and was not far away from spiralling completely out of control as the Dwarves' temper seemed to be anything that was easily held in check, an observation I carefully stored into the back of my mind for future purpose.

Bilbo, probably fearing for his furniture, tried to calm them down with a far too timid plea of, "Please, please!", which did not had any effect at all.

"Enough!" roared Thorin Oakenshield and he leapt to his own feet as well. Each Dwarf fell silent and sank back into their seat, still looking somewhat annoyed with whomever they had just had their heated discussion. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" Their leader continued and some of the Dwarves' angry facades fell, getting replaced by solemn expressions. "Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours, or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!"

He curled his left hand into a fist and said the last words with such force and conviction that a roar of approval greeted his declaration; I even had to stop Audrey from clapping her hands together as she was swept away in the emotion, giving her a disapproving look that made her shrunk back into the shadows next to me, an embarrassed blush covering her cheeks.

At that moment I had decided for myself what had to be done. The conversations from before and the Dwarf-leader's empowered speech had made me realise a few things about the quest they were about to undertake and the motions that drove their company: They were to retake their home -after sixty years of aimless wandering- from a Dragon called Smaug, a ferocious and extremely dangerous beast if I understood correctly. Their home, Erebor, was apparently filled with vast wealth and unthinkable riches, a legacy that needed to be returned to its rightful owners. And it were these thirteen Dwarves who were brave -or foolish- enough to undertake this perilous quest.

More importantly I had been able to study the general mannerisms, speech and temper of these Dwarves. They had completely walked over Mr. Bilbo who had been nothing but polite at first and who had been rather moderate in his outbursts of anger, and even when he had directly shown his disagreement with them, they had just laughed his vexations away. In so I realized that I had to come over as strong-willed, independent and steadfast, something I would have the least difficulty with as those three words practically described my personality, or I liked to think that anyway. Above that, it had been made very clear to me that these Dwarves were highly susceptible to finding insults in every uncalculated word or expression. In so I had to keep my calm composure, my practiced reserve and my retained emotions, and not be mislead again by my own fluctuant feelings, as that had been the start of my outburst in my conversation with Gandalf.

My study of their leader, this Thorin Oakenshield, had also shown me the usual customs of this fantastical world. The slight bows of the head, the elicit conversations, the use of grand words and titles like 'Master' and the elaborate explanations. How minute as they were, they did not go unnoticed by me.

In regards to the leader himself, I had seen a vast amount of pride and honour, something that showed clearly in his statuesque baring alone. But even if he would turn out to be as stern and unforgiving as the dark expression on his face made him look, he still received an immense amount of respect from his companions seated around the dinner table. From the interaction I had seen between Thorin and the other Dwarves, it was unmistakable how well they thought off their leader and how his presence alone made them all look that much more sure of themselves and at least ten times as brave.

I believed that gaining the trust, appreciation and praise of a group with such strong personalities and bonds -either of family or friendship- would be a difficult task to accomplish. And I also believed that there was absolutely no way the truth would convince them of our situation.

"Audrey," I lead my sister back into the adjourning drawing room -in so securing that our conversation would be private- and turned to her with a determined stare, "whatever I'm going to say next, just follow my lead. Okay?"

"Why?" She asked. "What are you going to say?"

I sighed at the question, already knowing that my sister wouldn't like what I had in mind. "Now that I've had a good look at their leader, I'm certain that we will never be able to convince him in taking us along if we tell him the truth. So I'm going to," I weighed my words, "spin a little tale."

Audrey looked at me with widened eyes. "You're going to lie?" She sounded astounded.

I groaned at the look she was giving me, full of pure innocence and it made me feel just a slightly bit guilty already, but my voice was steady and unwavering. "Yes, Audrey, yes. I'm going to lie."

"But... What if they find out?" She asked me, her eyes widening even more at the unnerving prospect.

"They won't find out if we keep to our tale." I told her matter-of-factly.

"But... Gandalf knows the truth." She said, her brow creasing in thought. "Won't he say something?"

I shook my head. "No," I said and thought back to my very first conversation with the wandering wizard; how he had found me and how he had seemed so interested in me, eager to help me and show me that the path I had to take lay in the form of this unexpected adventure. "He's too keen himself for us to journey along on this quest. He will not say anything. The only one who could be a problem to our credibility is Mr. Bilbo." I suddenly realised this and added wonderingly in afterthought, "I do hope he'll understand my notions."

"But Lil," Audrey used the shortened version of my name that only she had the permission to use. "I'm really not good at lying."

"For goodness sake, Audrey." I snapped, my voice low. "Will you stop being so difficult?" I saw how she lowered her eyes at my sharp tone and I continued in a more friendly voice, trying to reassure her. "It'll just be a small contortion of the truth and a little lie has never hurt anyone."

Audrey still looked very unsure about the whole idea. "I don't know..." She mumbled.

"Then leave the talking to me." I said and the tone of my voice left no room for any further discussion.

We walked back to occupy our previous spots in the covering shadows of the cabinet, where I waited for the perfect moment to set the story that was beginning to form in my head in motion.

The Dwarves were still cheering, making noise for a hundred men and their leader riled up his company some more by exclaiming words in a language I did not understand, a language -I presumed- that was solely preserved for the race of Dwarves.

Suddenly Balin's voice cut through the clamour. "You forget, the front gate is sealed." He said and the loud voices of the Dwarves reduced to capricious muttering. "There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf said softly, and the room fell utterly silent as he pulled a key from the depths of his grey robes. It was a geometrically and evidently Dwarvish key in design, as large as my entire hand and made out of a black iron-like material.

"How came you by this?" Thorin breathed, his dark expression lifted from his brow to be replaced by a softer and more wondered facade.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thráin," Gandalf said, and all around the table, the dwarves sat up a little straighter and craned their heads in order to look upon the intricate iron key with different eyes. The fate of this Thráin must have been of great interest to the Dwarves, I thought, as there seemed to pass a light of understanding in each and everyone's expressions. "For safekeeping." Gandalf continued. "It is yours now."

At those words he passed the key onto Thorin who's eyes seemed glued to this new treasure he now held in between his fingers. The key was decidedly very important to him, I saw that now, as the Dwarf-leader's face looked lost in the past and an expression of pure melancholy passed over his usual dark features.

He seemed aware of his own softer expression as he coughed silently and put his brow back in place over his eyes, while he engulfed the key safely in his fist.

"If there is a key…" Fíli said wonderingly, his brow creasing in thought and lifting his eyes to meet Gandalf's, "there must be a door."

The wizard used his pipe to tap at a spot on the map I could not see from where I was standing, "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls," Gandalf said.

"There's another way in," Kili whispered, grinning eagerly and clapping a hand on his brother's back.

"Well, if we can find it. But dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf corrected with a sigh.

There was a murmur of disappointment at that sudden realisation. "The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle-earth who can." Gandalf continued and those last words were able to get the Dwarves spirits back up.

Thorin, however, did not look very pleased at the prospect of asking others for help in his quest. He did seem like the sort to me who would want to do everything on his own and never ask for help, even if the need was dire and lives were at risk. Or maybe I was being too harsh on him, maybe he wasn't such a proud and stubborn character as I thought him to be. But nevertheless, it is better to be prudent than naive, and I would still tread around this Dwarf-leader with caution.

Gandalf addressed Thorin. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage." As he said that, he looked at Mr. Bilbo with a small reassuring smile. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar." Ori piped up.

"And a good one, too." Bilbo commented, pulling on his suspenders. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" The copper-haired Dwarf with the bushy beard asked him.

Mr. Bilbo looked up, not expecting the question to be directed at him, but seeing as everyone in the room was looking in his direction expectantly, he confusedly asked, "Am I what?"

Óin misheard what Bilbo had said and happily exclaimed, "He said he's an expert!"

"Me?!" Bilbo said incredulously. "No. No, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar!" He sounded very indignant at anyone thinking he was some sort of common thief. "I've never stolen a thing in my life."

In the following murmur that followed, I saw my chance and I whispered urgently to my sister first, "Don't say a word," before I stepped into the light and came to stand right next to Mr. Bilbo and in the immediate view of Thorin Oakenshield, while I guided my sister to stand next to Gandalf.

"I believe you underestimate yourself, Mr. Bilbo." I said, my voice steady and my posture at ease. "Us Hobbits are far more hardy then we look, you said so yourself this morning."

Bilbo looked taken aback. "I did?" He whispered to himself, scratching the back of his head.

Thorin gazed up at me from his seated position, his stare trying to dig into my very soul. "And who are you to meddle in these affairs?" He asked me with a judging expression.

"As I may recall, you are the guest in this house, Master Dwarf. So who are you to ask my name so bluntly?" I retorted, unfazed by his dark expression.

Thorin pushed his chair back -making it collide with Mr. Bilbo's stomach, who had to take a few steps backwards from the force of the impact- and stood, straight and proud in front of me, glaring down with such blazing eyes that it would have any other quake with nervousness. But it took a lot for me to get intimidated, so I simply tugged the corners of my lips up in a bashful smile in order to feign some timidity, as the Dwarf-leader lowered his face to come to a hold mere inches from my face.

"You are either very brave or very foolish to address me like that, Halfling." He practically hissed.

I smirked at that, showing him that I was anything but impressed by his act of intimidation. "Let's call it nerve." I said and contorted my face into a more genuine smile in order to show that I had meant no harm, that I was merely showing that I was not as impressed by acts or words like the other two Hobbits in the room. "My name is Lillian and this is my sister Audrey." I continued, as I gestured to both of us separately. "We are of the clan Darrow, a well-respected family in the South Farthing of the Shire and..." This was the part I hoped Bilbo would pick up on my meaning, "cousins of Master Baggins here."

Said Hobbit looked at me with obvious confusion written on his face. I quickly threw him a pleading look over my shoulders, hoping that he would not reveal my obvious lie. Being a relation of Mr. Bilbo had seemed for me the only acceptable reason why both I and my sister should be in his house so late at night, and I hoped that the master of the house was quick enough to see my reasoning as well.

"Is that so?" Thorin asked and directed his menacing look at said Hobbit.

Bilbo's pause lasted only a few seconds, but it could've lasted a few hours for me as my stomach clamped together, afraid that we would already be revealed as spreaders of untruths, when finally he said, "Yes, it's true. They erm... are the children of my mother's eldest brother's firstborn daughter."

I sighed out the nerve-filled breath I had been holding as discretely as possible and mouthed a 'thank you' towards Bilbo. "Second eldest brother, Mr. Bilbo," I said with a delighted smile, "You always mix up uncle err... Bill and uncle erm... Bob." I sincerely hoped those names sounded Hobbit-y enough.

"Ah, yes of course." Mr. Bilbo played my game along. "How silly of me."

"Not at all, not at all." I waved his apology away good-humouredly. "Anyway," I placed a more serious expression on my face but did not forget to keep on smiling as I knew few members of the opposite sex had a hard time disagreeing with me when I was batting my eyelashes and tutting my lips in a smile -I knew I was pretty and I was never too shrewd to deny such a simple fact, let alone not use the face the Gods had given me to use it in my advantage- as I addressed Thorin again, "let's skip pleasant conversation. I'd rather cut straight to the chase." I said and my voice was unwavering, "we would like to accompany you on your quest as well."

Thorin looked down at me, incredulous. "What?"

"We quite insist, actually."

"I do not need any females in my company." Thorin scoffed. "Least of all if you have nothing to add."

"And who says we don't?" I challenged.

"We already have a cook." Thorin said drily, and his comment was met with the snickers of some of his fellow Dwarves.

I stood as tall and proud as I could to match Thorin's towering height above me. "Now you are insulting us, Master Dwarf." I said lowly, my eyes narrowed.

"He did not mean any offence, my Lady." Balin interjected, keen to keep this conversation as civil as possible.

I inclined my head slightly to the elder Dwarf in appreciation, before I addressed the Dwarf leader again. "I am merely trying to do what is right and give our services as a form of our gratitude."

"Gratitude?" Thorin asked, his brow furrowing in question. "What are you speaking off?"

"Oh! Have they not told you yet?" I exclaimed, faking astonishment. "For shame."

Thorin merely grumbled. "You are trifling with my patience, Halfling."

Oh, this Dwarf was the most insufferable, disagreeable, insolent, arrogant, impudent, impertinent -and any other adjective that justified his personality to me- of men that I ever had the displeasure of talking with. If my own character had been just as nice and sweet as Audrey's, I wouldn't have to feel so fake when I forced myself to smile once more and tell him with obvious admiration in my voice, "Two members of your company were so brave and chivalrous in saving my dear sister from a most uncomfortable situation."

"Is that so?" Thorin's voice betrayed his interest in the matter. "And who where these two members?"

"They are sitting right there, Master Dwarf." I told him as I gestured towards the far left of the dining table. "The golden- and raven-haired brothers at the corner of the table."

Thorin looked at Fili and Kili thoughtfully -who both looked very confused at my revelation and they seemed to eye Audrey in a different way; maybe searching her face or body for any sign of physical harm- and I noticed a glimpse of pride fleeting over his face at the same time. "My nephews saved your sister?" He asked me.

I would have thought Fili and Kili were his sons, but being his nephews was for me an even satisfying thing to hear. "Indeed, they did." I said, a fond smile directed at the two brothers as I spun my tale. "You see, my sister was viciously harassed by some wild Men just hours ago. They had ambushed and surrounded her from all sides, taking every possession she carried on her and even going so far as to tearing the very clothes from her body." I started and unseeingly nudged Audrey a little bit closer to the light, so everyone could see that she was only wearing a frail under-dress covered with a colourful nightgown which was obviously not her own. My sister blushed and stared at her feet in embarrassment when all eyes suddenly fixed on her, and I found the way she acted perfectly fitting into my well-spun story. "Your nephews' heavy footsteps must've scared off her attackers because they left her on the side of a road, shivering and in such a shock that she lost her senses for a few moments, claiming she did not know where she was. That is how the young Masters Dwarf found her and instead of turning up their noses and ignoring her pleas for help, they came to her aid and brought her to Master Baggins' home. Brought her back to me." I ended my waterfall of words by smiling fondly at my sister and placing my hand on her left shoulder to give her a sideways hug.

I was shocked at how easily this made-up story rolled of off my tongue. Lie after lie I spilled, and I did not even so much as blink. I probably should have felt awful for lying to these Dwarves, and to some extent I did feel slightly guilty for my words, but there was another raw feeling nestling itself in the pit of my stomach, overpowering everything else; a feeling of pride at my own cunning nature and it made me straighten my shoulders just a little bit more.

Everyone was now looking either with shock or pity at Audrey, in awe -and even disbelief- at Fili and Kili, or mildly judging at their leader for being so impolite and inconsiderate before.

"We did not-" Fili started unsteadily and had to swallow to rephrase his thoughts, but his eyes were still wide with shock and fixed on the downcast gaze of my sister. "If we had known that such a horrendous fate had befallen you, we would have done so much more to see to your well-being."

Kili opened his mouth to say something as well, but the only sound that came out was reminiscent of the sound of a fish on dry land: speechless, almost gasping for breath and very much affected by my revelation.

"You were most noble, master Dwarf and even more so since you did not know the full reason of my sister's distress." I said, my eyes finding Fili's and I smiled sweetly at him. "And for your conduct we now offer you our services," I declared.

Thorin sighed reluctantly. "I can understand your sense of honour, Lady Lillian, and I admire you for it." He did not sound as judging or uncaring as before. "But there really is no need-"

"-Oh please, Master Dwarf!" I interrupted him, feigning absolute sincerity. "It is not only a matter of honour, it is also a matter of pure principle," I explained. "It will not be said that a Darrow did not offer their services after such an event!"

I thought that would have done the trick, but Thorin still didn't seem convinced. "Your principles give you credit, but you would still be more off a liability on our quest then an asset." He told me. "Unless you have some skills you can now elaborate to me," he added.

"We have no more skills than any of you, Master Dwarf." I admitted, knowing that any lie on that part would only get us in trouble and would be something easily to be seen through. "I can only say that we have no trouble in walking great distances, we can ride a horse -or pony-, we can take care of any little ailment that you might suffer, we can help cook sustainable meals, collect firewood or water and we are able enough to defend ourselves if the need arises," I listed.

"You forget the certain voice of reason a female Hobbit could bring into this quest." Gandalf added and it was the first thing he had said since I had started my spinning tale. He didn't look at me with -what I would have suspected were- judging eyes, on the contrary, he looked rather impressed and amused at the same time.

Even though I still intended to give Gandalf the cold shoulder for a while longer, I knew that I could not succumb to that now, so I simply nodded. "That too," I agreed.

However, that reasoning was not taken kindly by the Dwarves as they started muttering amongst themselves again, claiming that they did not need a woman's good opinion. I had to bite my tongue with great effort at some of the female-unfriendly remarks that were thrown around the table, so I tried to distract myself momentarily and looked at my sister.

Which turned out to be a not so very good idea.

Audrey stared right back at me, her eyes sad and clearly showing me that she was anything but amused at how I had put her in such an uncomfortable position in my made-up story and the small sensation of guilt that I had already felt before now took the greatest part of my heart in its clutches. I tried to convey some sort of apology through the look in my eyes, seeing as my words could be overheard if I was not careful, and hoped my sister would understand my meaning.

I did not want to think that I had used her improperly in my little scheme, though I was aware of the fact that I, myself, would have been just as annoyed and embarrassed -if not more- if our roles had been reversed. When that thought occurred to me, I cast my eyes downward in shame, knowing that I should not be forgiven lightly for what I had put Audrey through. But being the person that she was, my sister found my hand and squeezed it so I would look up again, where I was met with her non-judging face, a bright smile and sparkling blue eyes. She had forgiven me and it had taken her less than two minutes to do so. In that moment I was very grateful for my sister's sweet, caring and easygoing nature. It made me feel less alone in this world and that thought made me smile right back at her.

"How old are you?" Asked Thorin all of a sudden and I snapped my head back up to meet his eyes, the momentary feeling of happiness blown out like a candle and my focus back on the task at hand. I saw the Dwarf-leader reclining his head back from the whispered conversation he had just had with Balin, probably demanding his council on the matter.

"Now, now, Master Dwarf." I said teasingly. "Hasn't your mother ever told you never to ask a lady's age?"

But Thorin didn't respond to my obvious pleasantry as he simply glared, demanding an answer with the piercing stare of his blue-grey eyes.

"Okay, humour is clearly lost on you, I will be sure to note that." I mumbled to myself, but those closest to me -Bilbo and Audrey- heard me and both had to fight a smile at my comment. After a pause, I answered him in the most even-levelled tone I could muster. "I am twenty-two years old and my sister is four years my junior; eighteen."

Dwalin snorted out a booming laugh. "They are but children!" He scoffed.

I couldn't keep myself from biting back a snide remark at hearing such a comment. "At least we act like adults, unlike some of you."

"Hoho!" Dwalin laughed boisterously. "Will ye hear that! Yer a feisty one, aren't ye?"

"She has the hair for it!" The Dwarf diagonally in front of him said, one who had absolutely no room to talk as it was the one with the bushy ginger beard.

I had to refrain from shouting that point out as my calm was starting to leave me. I breathed in hardly through my nose and curled my hands into fists to behold my composure, digging my fingernails in the palms of my hands as some of the Dwarves continued to mock me. But I just held my chin up higher, scrunched my nose up in unappreciation and stared the culprits down, showing that I was absolutely not affected by their words and one by one they fell silent, to the great joy of myself. Their sudden lack of comments proved I had shown them I wasn't just anyone who would lay down and take abuse, and I really had a hard time from speaking up once again and rubbing their noses in that fact.

"You forget, Dwalin, that Hobbits and Dwarves age differently." Gandalf's booming voice resounded throughout the room, asking for everyone's utmost attention. "Dwarves can live to become more than 400 years old, whereas Hobbits live until they are approximately 130 years of age. Now, if we would take the two youngest members of our company: Masters Fili and Kili, and divide their age by a little more than three..." The wizard started mumbling to himself, probably calculating the results in his grey head. "...That would mean that Master Fili is miss Lillian's elder by a little more than a year, whereas Master Kili here would even be a year or two younger than miss Lillian."

This statement got the other Dwarves to tease Kili about his young age and they were especially making a lot of fuss about his lack of a beard. Why that was, I did not know. But Kili was quick to retort with a load of sharp comments, contradicting any of the teases that were thrown at his head and his scowl was so alike the one firmly plastered on his uncle's face, that there was absolutely no doubt in my mind anymore that Thorin and Kili were obviously related. Though I had to concur with the youthful jests of the other Dwarves as his face still looked more like that of a naughty puppy instead of anything remotely mature.

Thorin interrupted the teasing assaults on his nephew by speaking loudly through the laughter, but his question was directed at me. "Can you fight?"

"We may not look very strong to you, but what we lack in strength, we adjust with our wit." I told him with renewed fire in my voice. "We might be small, but we're brave. Above that, we are very quick on our feet. No foul beast will have any luck in catching us."

"That is not enough." Thorin said gruffly.

_Well, what did he expect? That we would have been able to fly or breath under water?_ I thought to myself and out loud I voiced my annoyance at his difficult character for the first time. "Well, I am sorry. But that is what we have to offer and it will just have to do, now will it?"

Thorin narrowed his eyes at my tone of voice. "As leader of this company, that decision will be mine -and only mine- to make." He said lowly and his demeanour showed that he wouldn't allow any further arguments.

I opened my mouth to retort nonetheless. This Dwarf was truly a complete and utter arse and I was just about to say as much to him when Gandalf noticed how my features darkened and he jumped in quickly to avoid the upcoming argument.

"Enough!" He exclaimed and all fell quiet once more. "It is no mere coincidence that Lady Lillian and Lady Audrey are present here tonight." He spoke to Thorin. "I believe it would be prudent to take the young Ladies along on your journey. I promise you that they will be a valuable asset to your party. They do not know it themselves, but there is something..." He hesitated and looked from my scowl to Audrey's confused face before he continued with a small smile directed at the both of us, "...special about them."

Apparently I wasn't the only one who got grey hairs from Gandalf's evasive words, as Thorin rolled his eyes in annoyance and directed his scowl at the wizard. "Talking in riddles again, Gandalf?"

"There is only so much I know, and there is only so much you _need_ to know, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf replied hotly.

A thought suddenly occurred to me, an idea that might convince the Dwarf-leader better in taking us along. "If we really are too much of a liability than you can cut us off from your party whenever you like." I spoke up and all eyes were once again directed at me. "There will be nothing binding us together, no written arrangements, no oats. We will only give you our solid promise that we will aid you in any way we can and we will acknowledge your leadership, though we will not be treated as subjects, but equals. At any part of the journey you may release us from our duties and we will not argue at your decision."

"But..." Bilbo's timid voice followed mine. "If that ever happens than that would mean you'd have to journey back on your own!" He exclaimed with wide eyes. "That's too dangerous!"

I was rather endeared by Mr. Bilbo's concern for us, but did not think his comment had just helped us any further in our convincing. Nevertheless, I gave him an appreciative smile. "Well, let's hope we can prove ourselves first before it comes to that."

"Lad- err..." He faltered and corrected himself. "Lillian, dear cousin, I'm sorry to say but we Hobbits are not made to go on long and dangerous expeditions," he said. "We are honest, gentle folk, and- well, we are no great soldiers, or burglars for that matter!" He concluded as he gave the table of Dwarves a pointed look.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with mister Baggins," Balin spoke up. "He's hardly burglar material and the lasses look very frail indeed. No harm intended, my Lady." He said with an apologetic nod in my direction.

"Aye," Dwalin grunted, crossing his arms over his chest, "the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

All of a sudden the Dwarves started fighting and squabbling amongst themselves again. From what I could gather, about half of them were at the conclusion that Bilbo, Audrey and myself were just fine and would not walk in their way, the other half, however, argued feverishly that we would only be a liability and that we would get them into trouble more than that we would be able to get them out of trouble.

"Enough!" Gandalf's booming voice echoed throughout the whole house and the room went suddenly very dark as the wizard showed his annoyance with the Dwarves. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is. And Lady Lillian and Lady Audrey are made from far more sturdier material than a single first impression would suggest." He had leapt to his feat when he said this and now lowered himself back onto his seat, his temper and the dark vanishing with it.  
"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." He addressed Thorin, "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I've chosen mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including himself. And the Ladies can be the fifteenth and sixteenth members of your company. They will show their qualities when the time calls for it." Gandalf sighed tiredly, wary of the Dwarf-leader's decision, "You must trust me on this."

After a few moments of pause, Thorin finally spoke up. "Very well. We'll do it your way."

I had no idea which 'qualities' Gandalf was talking about, but for the moment I did not care as I beamed at the room when Thorin's words reached my ears and Audrey couldn't surpress the smile that spread over her face like a ray of sunshine, also very pleased with our accomplishment. Bilbo on the other hand was silently pleading, "No, no," as the verdict had fallen.

"Give them the contract." Thorin said and looked to Balin who pulled an immensely long scroll of parchment from his pocket. He unfolded it first and held out his hand for us to indicate he had to adjust some details as he scratched something out with a quill he produced from one of his pockets, scribbling something in its place before he neatly folded it back into a square.

"It's just the usual summary about the pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth." Balin explained as he handed the document over to the master of the house.

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo sounded aghast.

I faltered slightly as well. "Ehm... There really is no need for a contra-"

"No contract, no journey." Thorin snapped, his patience completely spent.

I raised my eyebrows at that but bit my tongue and refrained from giving a snarky retort back, something that wasn't easy as this Dwarf's character had me inwardly pulling at my hair in frustration. But I was no fool and wisely kept my lips tightly pressed together as it had taken us a surreal amount of time to come this far and convince the mighty leader of this company, so it would probably not be prudent to start a discussion on the existence of a written contract.

Instead, I walked to where Mr. Bilbo was standing and stood closely next to him, so I could read the cubits long inked pointers on the yellow-ed parchment. Audrey came to stand beside me, but was still more interested in looking around the Hobbit hole and the ones who now inhabited it, than the actual contract. She probably assumed that I would take care of this little obstacle and make sure to read every single detail, so that we would not get cheated into something unwanted.

Thorin stood from his chair and inclined his head towards Gandalf's ear. "I cannot guarantee their safety," he murmured darkly.

He probably thought that only the wizard could understand his mumbling, but I overheard what he was saying if I concentrated and pointed my ears towards his deep voice. Maybe it was the fact that Hobbit-ears were larger than Humans' because I was able to understand their following silent conversation.

"Understood," Gandalf nodded.

"Nor will I be responsible for their fate," Thorin added.

After a moment of silence, Gandalf nodded once more. "Agreed."

I did not like the sound of that at all. An eerie sense of foreboding shadowed my thoughts as I wondered for the first time that day what unspeakable dangers we had gotten ourselves into. At that moment I made the promise to myself that I would be on my guard at all times, that I would heed my natural senses, that I would sleep with one eye open every single night, and that I would keep my protective nature cloaked over Audrey so she would not come to harm.

I realised that it would still take me some time to completely trust these Dwarves -if I would ever be able to trust them at all- but I was certain it was the same for most of them the other way around.

"'Total is cash on delivery, up to, but not exceeding, (one-fourteenth had been scratched out and replaced above with one-sixteenth) one-sixteenth of total profit, if any.' Seems fair." Bilbo was reading parts of the contract aloud and I quit my own shadowed thoughts to listen at the recited parts. "'Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to,... lacerations, evisceration... _Incineration_?"

"Oh, aye! He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," the Dwarf with the funny hat nodded merrily, seemingly not aware that his words weren't helping Mr. Bilbo to cope with all of this at all, as the Hobbit blinked frantically, trying to inhale sufficiently.

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asked as most of the company of Dwarves gazed at his swaying figure.

"Yeah, I f-feel…" Bilbo stammered, hands on his knees, "…feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace…with wings," the Dwarf with the funny hat said, smiling gleefully and he rose from his chair to step a bit closer to the Hobbit if he should be needed to elaborate further.

"I-I-I need air." Bilbo gulped and his complexion could be compared to the colour of ash.

"Flash of light, searing pain, and then, _poof_!" the Dwarf did elaborate further and cheerfully at that. "You're nothing more than a pile of ash!" He grinned.

"Nope!" Bilbo blurted, and promptly fainted.

"Very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf grumbled, his bushy eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

_Ah! That's his name._ I finally sighed out as it was starting to get annoying calling him the Dwarf-with-the-funny-hat.

Both Audrey and myself rushed towards Bilbo and knelt down beside our poor fallen kin. I carefully felt his forehead and called out to him as Audrey gently shook his shoulders in order to wake him up. I had the feeling that it would take the Hobbit a lot more convincing in coming along on this journey, something Gandalf seemed to dread as well.

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**~ Will be continued ~**

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**Author's Note: **I knew I was going to be late with this update so I made it nice and long for you guys! **:)** I hope you liked what I did with this chapter.


	7. Part VI - To Protect And Prepare

**Author's Note:** Since I am already late with updating, and since Part VI isn't entirely finished yet; I decided to split it in two so all of you could already enjoy some sibling shenanigans. I'm hoping to upload the other part in a day or two, so we can finally start the actual adventure. In this segment you will find out some more about our dear Audrey that might or might not intrigue you...  
An enormous thank you to my reviewers from last time: '_Phantomessangel', '__Immer wenn es dunkel wird',_ 'ZabuzasGirl', 'Belabsouza', 'LarienSurion', 'Siamsa' and 'Anna'. You guys are the best and the reason for me to keep on writing! To all the not-members of Fanfiction that left a review: I really wish I could give you all a separate 'Thank You' for your kind words, but seeing as that is impossible, this shout-out shall have to do. **;)**

**[EDIT: For those who have already passed through here, I pasted segment a. and segment b. together so it would form the entire Part VI. I find it looks better like this; otherwise there might have been a bit too many subdivisions.]**

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**~ Part VI ~**

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**To Protect And Prepare**

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Mr. Bilbo was set up in his armchair before the fire in the parlour, his feet lifted in the air by the aid of a flowery pouf, his back comfortably cushioned and a blanket draped over his upper legs. Audrey had been so thoughtful to search the cupboards in the kitchen for any sign of a kettle and an assortment of tea-leaves, which was why Mr. Bilbo's hand were at present enveloped around a steaming mug of camomile tea. This in order to calm down his heavily assaulted nerves and his thumping headache.

The dwarves had scattered throughout Bilbo's cosy little Hobbit hole. Some of them where in the kitchen, enjoying delights that Dwalin had -finely- managed to snoop out of the cookie jar. Some were seated along the heavy wooden table in the dining room, smoking their pipes to ease their stomachs after a satisfying dinner. Some were still huddled around the beer barrel, filling their tankards every few minutes with the golden beverage. And some were in Mr. Bilbo's study, browsing through his lovely collection of leather-bound books and maps.

Audrey, Gandalf and myself had decided to stay with Bilbo in the parlour, waiting for him to regain consciousness, which had not taken too long when my sister had walked in with the cup of tea, it's sweet smell filling the Hobbit's nostrils and pulling him back into the world of the living.

Gandalf was standing in the middle of the room as it was the highest point in the ceiling, where he was able to stand fully upright and his tall figure casted a long dark shadow across the floor. Audrey had sat herself cross-legged on the colourful carpet diagonally in front of Bilbo's armchair and she was studying his face and demeanour with keen interest, ready to jump back on her feet when the Hobbit would be in need of aid once more. I was seated on the elbow-rest of the chaise-longue, kept upright by the support of my own arms and in direct view of the master of the house.

"How are you feeling?" I asked him, a tad concerned about his ashen-coloured face.

"I'll be alright." Bilbo said, his eyes not leaving the cup of tea in his slightly shaking hands. "Just let me sit quietly for a moment."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long!" Gandalf's booming voice ricocheted through the room. "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?" He reprimanded poor Bilbo, his eyes piercing into the Hobbit's as he loomed over him with his towering height. "I remember a young hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves in the woods. He'd stay out late, come home after dark trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young hobbit who would've liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire!"

The mental image that that revelation brought to me made my lips curl into a smile. I locked eyes with my sister and saw that she was sporting a smile even more vibrant than my own, as she was probably imagining the same thing. Both our amused faces did not go unnoticed by Bilbo and he wiggled uncomfortably in his armchair, a blush spreading from his cheeks right to the pointy ends of his ears, making him look a lot more healthy already.

"The world is not in your books or maps." Gandalf continued much more gently and he inclined his head towards one of the many circular windows in the room. "It's out there."

"I can't just go running off into the blue!" Bilbo spluttered indignantly. "I'm a Baggins of Bag-End!" He declared and he pointed his finger in the air to emphasize his declaration.

"You are also a Took." Gandalf said with raised eyebrows and that revelation made Bilbo roll his eyes in annoyance, as if he was tired of hearing that fact mentioned. "Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?"

"Yes." Bilbo said with a sigh and another roll of his eyes. From the looks of it, it seemed like he had heard this story many times before and did very much question its believability.

"Well, he could!" Gandalf continued a little louder, starting to get fed up with the Hobbit's reactions. "At the Battle of Greenfields he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the goblin king's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won..." The wizard said and something in the story had made Bilbo scrunch up his features in question, something he had probably not heard before.

"...and the game of golf invented at the same time." Gandalf ended the story.

Audrey giggled at that and I couldn't suppress a smile either. It just sounded rather ridiculous and unbelievable, and I wasn't the only one who thought that as Bilbo spoke up once more, though I could see him raising one of the corners of his mouth, amused at the image as well.

"I do believe you made that up." He said and lifted his eyes up to look at the wizard.

"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment." Gandalf admitted with a shrug and he walked through the room to seat himself on the wooden coffee table in front of Bilbo's armchair, his blue eyes trying to find the Hobbit's brown ones. "You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

Bilbo managed a smile at that and as his eyes met Gandalf's once more that evening, a glimmer of hope and aspiration was visible in them. "Can you promise that I will come back?" He asked.

But at that question Gandalf's face fell and he resided reluctantly to tell the truth. "No." He said gravely. "And if you do, you will not be the same."

"That's what I thought." Bilbo all but whispered and to my ears he sounded somewhat disappointed, maybe even sad. "Sorry, Gandalf. I can't sign this." He gestured to the contract that laid in front of him and stepped up from his armchair. "You've got the wrong Hobbit."

At his last words Bilbo gingerly stepped through the door of the parlour and into the adjacent hallway, scuttling away to a place of momentary refuge and peace. Gandalf furrowed his bushy eyebrows and grumbled something under his breath before he stood up as well, making his way in the opposite direction. He sat himself in the dining room amongst the small group of Dwarves who enjoyed a good smoke from their long pipes in silence, and silence, along with the opportunity to ponder over recent events, is what the wizard seemed to crave most of all at the moment.

In the parlour, my sister and I were left to ourselves for the first time that evening. I had been craving a moment of well-deserved solitude ever since Bilbo got the contract shoved in his sweaty palms, and savoured this rare moment of peace and quiet. I leaned back against the chaise-longue and closed my eyes contently, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me as I realised what a weary day it had been. I could feel my eyelids droop ever lower and a heavenly sensation of blissful ignorance filled my brain when I was abruptly shaken out of my slumber by my sister's trembling voice.

"No, this isn't right." I could hear her whisper to herself and I reluctantly opened my eyes to see she was staring at the folded hands in her lap, an expression of pure confusion and alarm plastered on her face.

I arched in eyebrow, not used to my sister's current posture. "What's the matter with you?" I asked her.

Audrey shot to her feet and flung herself into the seat next to me, grabbing a hold of my upper arm, her eyes growing disturbingly wide. "Mister Bilbo, he..." She spluttered. "he- he _has_ to come with us!"

If I hadn't known my sister, I would've presumed she had gone mad. I could feel that her hands were shaking violently, her posture betrayed that she was strung up by nerves, completely wind up like a spring and she was swallowing one too many times for me to consider normal. But predominantly it were her eyes that disturbed me the most; they had grown even wider than before, the blue of her irises blindingly bright and positively piercing everything in its direct line of sight. It made her look mildly deranged.

I tried to ignore all of this as I knew it was not entirely unusual behaviour. I vaguely remembered my sister had the same look in her eyes when a nightmare had once chased her out of her bed and into my own as she vigorously tried to explain there was an actual monster hiding in her closet. And no matter how many times I tried to soothe her and tell her that monsters didn't exist, she stubbornly refused to believe me, her belief in fantastical creatures overpowering any sign of common sense.

That little flashback made me scowl at her choice of words, convinced that my sister was once again swept away in the mere magical sensation of it all. "He doesn't _have_ to do anything. Audrey, if we had a choice than I would have rather stayed here in the safety of the Shire as well." I chided. "I can understand Bilbo's reasons."

As I had suspected, Audrey was not convinced. "But- but he _needs_ to come along on this quest! He- he _needs_ to be the Dwarves' burglar!"

I merely raised an eyebrow at her exclamation, too sceptical and worn-out at the moment to recognize the desperate tone in her voice. Above that, my attention was momentarily drawn towards the vice-like grip on my arm as it was getting -admittedly- quite painful. "Can I please have my arm back?" I gestured towards the assaulted limb. "I can hardly feel my fingers."

Audrey looked once at me, than at her own hand, and immediately let go. "Sorry." She said weakly and my show of disinterest had tempered her former exclamations of wound-up ebullience, making her slump back into the soft cushions of the sofa, her voice now a mere tremor of what it sounded like before. "It's just... he... he _has_ to come. He just has to."

She sounded so utterly confused and defeated that I had the sudden urge to throw my arm around her shoulders and soothe her like I had done when we were children, trying to calm and comfort her with my reasoned and thought-through assertions.  
Instead I tilted my head in question, intrigued to know the reason behind my sister's perseverance and belief in Mr. Bilbo's compulsory attendance to this quest.

"Why?" I asked simply and when there was no response I made a reluctant attempt in cheering Audrey up. I really hated seeing her so upset. She was supposed to be the happy one. Being quiet, stubborn and sullen was my job.

"Are you already that fond of him?" I nudged her playfully in the side, hoping my effort of pleasantry would make my sister smile again.

Unfortunately, it did not have the desired effect as Audrey kept looking thoroughly troubled. Her lack of response made me hesitatingly admit that there must actually be something of genuine substance worrying my sister, a rare occurrence that made me lower my brow back into a serious frown, my bad habit started to play up again as I sucked on my bottom lip, a clear indication that my nerves were on edge.

"Or are you keeping something from me?" I said lowly, my voice barely above a whisper as I couldn't fathom the idea of Audrey keeping anything that was remotely important and reality-stricken to herself.

She looked up into my eyes so quickly, I was sure she had strained her neck, her expression clearly saying something along the lines of -_'Are you mental?'_- and I indeed felt rather idiotic, thinking even for a second that Audrey would purposely keep any sort of important information from me. Though my insinuation -which sounded even more ridiculous resounding in my head for a second time- had been able to magically conjure a radiant smile back onto my sister's face and she airily waved my questions away with a laugh. "It was just a feeling that I had."

Her smiles were infectious and I could feel my own lips curl up as well. "A feeling, huh?" I inquired and I was intrigued to know if what my sister had felt was anything remotely similar to the 'feelings' I had had; the strange sensations of remembrance that had seemed to fill some of the holes in my memory. I wondered if she had -just now- remembered something as well, as minute as it may have seemed to her, and that sudden thought peaked my interest. "Do you also get a major headache when you're having one of those?" I questioned and the eager interest on my face did not go unnoticed by my sister.

"A headache?" Audrey shook her head. "No." She quirked an eyebrow in confusion as she countered my inquiry with a question of her own. "Do you?"

I was slightly disappointed at hearing that. I had hoped that Audrey had gone through the same experience. We could have been able to talk about it, give each other a heads-up whenever we felt another memory reach the surface of our conscience, help one another get through the difficult parts and just genuinely be there for each other.

_And vomit rainbows while we're busy bonding._ I nearly face-palmed myself at the sentimental thoughts running rampant in my brain.

I did not show what I was thinking though and just answered her question truthfully, hoping to keep this conversation as auspicious as possible. "Bloody hell, yes." I answered flatly, the corners of my lips still pulled upward. "Splitting ones."

I could see this revelation made my sister's interest peak. "And what feeling did _you_ have then?" She asked eagerly.

Her question made me relive the deep and crude voice from before, chills running up my spine as I remembered how it felt like I was drowning when those three words echoed through my head: _'Only failures cry.'_ I could feel the colour leave my face and I saw how Audrey's eager expression rapidly contorted into an expression of concern. I knew that if I told Audrey the truth she would be upset beyond believe. She would worry about me endlessly, something that was really not necessary to begin with, let alone appreciated. I could take care of this on my own, there was no need for my sister to vex herself about my mental state of mind.

I quickly quirked the corners of my lips back into a smile. " Just a memory that came back to me." I decided to at least be sincere about that.

Audrey's worrisome expression melted away as her face lit up in excitement. "Really? You remembered something?" I could practically hear the radars in her head working in overdrive as she tried to figure out what that meant. "What was it?" She asked.

Ah, right. Of course, I reprimanded myself that I should have realised sooner my sister would've wanted to know more. I racked my brain for any other memories that had showed themselves to me during the day. "It was nothing important." I tried to stall for time, even if it was just for a few seconds. I was sure something would come back to me and -indeed- something did resurface. A memory that had stuck with me since the moment I had seen it flashing in front of me like a film. "I used to wear glasses." I finally told Audrey as I remembered this early morning when Gandalf had found me and made me relive the few moments before I woke up here. "Which is sort of strange, actually, seeing as I could see as sharply as an eagle from the moment I woke up here."

"That's fantastic!" Audrey exclaimed, completely satisfied with this Lilliputian detail of my earlier life. "Maybe this place has some kind of healing powers for people like us."

I inelegantly snorted out a laugh at that. "Uhu, sure, healing powers." I said drily, one pedantic eyebrow cocked. "Nothing else?" I mock-questioned haughtily and continued by summing up a list of absurd thoughts, one corner of my mouth raised in sarcastic playfulness. "Houses made out of candy? Fluffy pillow-like clouds you can actually sit on? Talking animals?"

"Lil, don't mock me!" Audrey exclaimed with a toothy laugh and half-heartedly slapped me on the arm for good measure. "We do not know the ways of this world. It could be possible." A giggle slipped past her lips every now and then which annulled the serious tone she wanted to give her voice.

My eyebrow still in place, I gave her an incredulous and pointed look. "Right."

Audrey crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "Well if you don't believe me, we can ask Gandalf." She huffed in mock indignation and sprang to her feet, making her way back towards the dining room.

Now, that was a prospect I did not fancy at all; another doleful conversation with nothing but un-aiding answers from the wandering wizard, while he looked at you with such knowledge that it made you believe he actually knew a lot more of your previous life than you did at the moment. So, I quickly dashed after my sister and grabbed her arm to turn her away from the dining room and into one of the many hallways of the Hobbit hole, mumbling "Oh, no, no, no, no." as I made us come to a halt.

"We're not asking that wizard anything." I grumbled and scowled in the direction of the dining room where Gandalf was winning what appeared to be a 'Who can make the biggest smoke circle' -contest.

"Why ever not?" Audrey asked innocently, her sing-song voice making it quite clear she knew exactly the reason why I was still unwilling to talk to Gandalf.

"Because he's unable to give you straight answers and I'm really not in the mood to have another evasive conversation filled with half-truths." I said evenly and turned my scowl towards my sister, who didn't seem faced by my expression for a second.

She even had the audacity to smirk at me. "Are you sure you're not just cross with him because of earlier?" She asked, a teasing edge to her voice, knowing I would be too stubborn to admit anything of the sort.

I looked my sister square in the eyes. "Positive." I answered evenly, trying to convey no emotions at all in that single word.

Audrey's eyes shone with a mischievous light. "Right." She concluded with a grin.

A deep voice coming from the far end of the hallway made us both aware of the fact that we were not the only ones having a private conversation in the dimly-lit corridors of Mr. Bilbo's cosy Hobbit hole. "Old warriors," I heard it say with a deep sigh and I thought I recognized Balin as the owner of the voice.

My curiosity got the better of me and I silently waved my sister along, tripling lightly on the toes of my feet towards the sound. I was just about to round a corner when another voice accompanied Balin's and I skittered to a halt, my sister colliding with my back with an "Oomph" as she had not anticipated my sudden halt.

"I will take each and every one of these Dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills." I heard Thorin's baritone vibrate along the curved walls. "For when I called upon them, they answered; loyalty, honour, a willing heart," he said, and I peeked around the corner to see his usual stoic expression had made way for a far more softer look. "I can ask for no more than that."

Balin -who had been seated earlier- stood up with a heavy sigh, his voice strained with worry as he addressed Thorin. "You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You've done honourably by our people." I vaguely understood that Balin was trying to convince Thorin in choosing a safer path, attempting his leader to see common sense where it was due, as if he knew their quest could only end in blood and tears. "You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace, and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor." He reasoned and for a moment it seemed as if Thorin was considering the words of his loyal adviser.

That was until the Dwarf-leader's hands disappeared into his pocket. "From my grandfather to my father, _this_ has come to me," he said as he revealed the key Gandalf had bestowed on him. "They dreamt of the day when the Dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin," Thorin said heavily, his posture betraying how the memory of his ancestors weighed upon him. "Not for me."

Balin nodded, even if he would have liked to hear a different answer, but he knew as well that there was none. "Then we are with you, laddie," he breathed out and placed the palm of his hand on Thorin's upper arm in comfort and reassurance. "We will see it done."

I saw how the two of them made their way towards either the sitting room or the parlour and even as they were already long gone, neither me nor my sister moved around or said anything, their words still heavy in the air, weighing our earlier carefree mood down. I realised at that moment how important this quest seemed to be for Thorin and it suddenly felt like I understood his dark eyes, brooding expressions and harsh words a little better. Though I was sure, that no matter how much understanding there would ever be between us, we would still butt heads. That much was certain.

I moved away from the corridor and directed my pondering gaze at the wall in front of me, my inner thoughts disturbed by Audrey's sigh. "Poor mister Thorin..."

Even though I would have loved to scoff at that remark -the verbal battle between the Dwarf-leader and myself from before still fresh in my mind- I did not have the heart to disagree with her out loud.

Audrey tilted her head slightly to the side and looked at me strangely, her eyes distant. "It must have been so hard for him, and for the other Dwarves too." She cast her eyes downward, the far-away look still present, and scrunched up her features in sorrow. "I mean, can you imagine? Your home taken away from you by a Dragon. A Dragon, Lil!" She exclaimed and her eyes fleetingly met mine, wide with appalling realisation. "Such a horrific beast... it probably killed a lot of the Dwarves' friends and family."

Those last words took me by surprise as a sudden feeling of realisation held my heart in its clutches; and I was ashamed to admit that I had not even considered that possibility. In a flash, Bofur's words came back to me: _"He'll melt the flesh of your bones in the blink of an eye"_. He had said it so airily, so full of teasing humour, that it had never occurred to me how accurate and full of reality that revelation actually was. In extension, I tried to imagine a real-life Dragon, taller than any building back home, with scales of steel, claws like meat hooks and teeth like razors, able to breathe fire so scalding that it destroys everything in its path; wood, rock, flesh...

"And then you're homeless and you have no choice but to travel, to start a new settlement somewhere, to try and built a new life." Audrey babbled on, her face contorted into an expression of pure misery and her voice strained with pity. "But you never really feel like you belong. Always remembering what you lost, and who you lost. And though it pains your heart, you can feel the hope of ever seeing your homeland again slowly fading with every passing day."

Audrey's eyes filled with tears as she tried desperately to keep from crying. Her gaze was still distant and it looked like she could actually see the despair of the Dwarves of Erebor rolling like a film in front of her eyes.

Now, I knew my sister was a caring person who would take every story of misfortune to heart, but I hadn't expected her to be _this_ upset about these Dwarves' past. Either she was still not entirely over the shock of it all and prone to burst out into tears at any given moment, or she had somehow heard one of the Dwarves retell a tale of wandering when I wasn't around.  
But seeing as I had been with her the entire time, I did not think that that was the case, so I stuck with my first thought.

At any rate, Audrey was right and her words had struck a chord within me and I knew I had to admit that fact out loud for her to know I shared her opinion. So I let out a sigh and placed a hand atop her shoulder in an attempt at comfort. "I suppose you're right." I told her sincerely. "It must have been very hard for them."

Audrey wiped away a single tear that had escaped the barrier of her eyelids and looked up at me with a small smile, visibly pleased with my genuine reaction. A comfortable silence settled between us, which I reluctantly broke as my ever-rational brain clawed at a more realistic problem at hand.

"Come on, let's go and find Bilbo." I said and let my hand fall from my sister's shoulder as I explained my notions. "We still need to get you a dress and some spare clothing for the journey would probably be necessary as well." I said as I turned on my heel and headed towards -where I presumed where- the sleeping quarters, Audrey following close behind. "Maybe our host will be so kind as to lend us some."

Audrey's ever-present spirits were lifted almost immediately as we began our search for the master of the house. I was baffled -again- at how swiftly my sister was able to dismiss the sorrow-filled thoughts from her mind. It seemed to me that her focus had once more drifted towards the land of the fairies as she practically skipped around in the various corridors and passageways of Bilbo's home, occasionally grazing every attentive ear with a pleasant hum of her sing-song voice.

Trying to find the right room in the Hobbit hole turned out to be far more difficult than we had anticipated. Though it looked like a small hole from the outside, the interior was far more extravagant with corridors curving endlessly below the hill, a maze of passageways in every direction and circular doorways in every possible nick and corner; I acknowledged fleetingly that Bag-End would have been a very good place to play hide and seek in.

"Oh!" Audrey piped up suddenly as I was in the process of closing a door that had lead me to one of the many bathrooms in the Hobbit hole, and I quirked an eyebrow as I faced her lively expression, her mouth shaped in a perfect 'o'. "I didn't had the chance to tell you yet, but I thought you were brilliant when you faced down Thorin." She said, her baby blues shining brightly in awe. "He looked very intimidating."

Again, how she could switch from one thought to the other amazed me to no end. "Just a moment ago you felt sorry for him." I sighed out in exasperation, a frown making its way back onto my brow.

"Well, yes. But that doesn't mean he didn't look completely scary earlier." She said, her eyes wide as she remembered his imposing, dark and scrutinizing posture. "I think I would've pissed myself with fright if I had been standing in your place." She shuddered at the thought.

Even though her words made me smile -Audrey squeaking in apprehension as Thorin's broad frame loomed over her, his arms crossed and his eyes burning a hole in her tiny form as she seemed to steadily shrink under his intimidating gaze was the first image that rolled in front of my eyes- I did not believe that my unwavering attitude was considered even remotely 'brilliant', as Audrey had put it.

So I waved her compliment away. "It was nothing, really."

"It was not nothing!" Audrey exclaimed indignantly and she put her hands on her hips for good measure. "You managed to keep what you were truly thinking to yourself, you had a sense of calm over you throughout the whole ordeal -even when they started to make fun of your hair colour!- and in the end you actually convinced him!"

She sounded so in awe that it was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I really did not deserve such praise. "I think it were Gandalf's words that persuaded him the most." I mumbled stubbornly in response.

"Weeeeeell, that might have helped a little," Audrey admitted, "but I still think you did a great job. You showed all the Dwarves that you've got..." She hesitated, "Balls!" She blurted out without thinking and flushed bright red immediately after, clasping a hand over her mouth in reflex.

I tried to refrain from snorting out a laugh but failed miserably as my sister's crimson face was a highly amusing sight. "Balls?" I questioned as my uncharacteristic giggles had subsided, a teasing grin finding its way around my lips.

Audrey shook her head fervently, her eyes wide. "I actually wanted to say 'guts'." She stuttered, her blushing face clearly indicating that she had wished she had stopped to think before she had spoken.

I pinched the bridge of my nose good-humouredly. "You know that 'balls' is not a dirty word, right?"

"I know, but I just find it _sounds_ dirty." Audrey entwined and twisted her fingers round and round in embarrassment and she scrunched up her nose in such a way that it made her look like an adorable little toddler who had just been told that 'no, that's not food, put it back'.

I benevolently rolled my eyes and chuckled silently at my sister's innocent behaviour, before I motioned her along to continue our search. For a few minutes we explored the Hobbit hole in comfortable silence. Audrey's cheeks had somewhat reduced in colour as she could now occupy herself with peeking her head around corners and through cracks of doors -sometimes silently calling out our host's name- instead of worrying about her momentary discomfited outburst.

After I had examined the book-filled room we now found ourselves in -unsuccessful in tracking down Mr. Bilbo once again- I spoke up in a momentary feeling of appreciation towards my sister. "Thanks." I said simply.

"Hmm?" Audrey hummed distractedly as she stroked a delicate finger across a row of leather-bound books. "For what?"

My grin was lopsided as I eyed her ministrations. "For saying I've got balls."

My sister's head snapped up in surprise at my recollection of her earlier -rather uncouth- compliment and she flushed scarlet once more at the choice of words. She sheepishly lowered her eyes onto the ground as she started to twiddle her fingers again, stammering "You're welcome" in a very timid version of her voice.

When Audrey looked up again and locked eyes with me, my lopsided grin still in place and my eyebrows raised, she burst out in a fit of high-pitched giggles -either at my expression or at her own shy reaction- and followed me back out the door and into the adjacent hallway as I waved her along with an amused tilt of the head. We turned -what appeared to be- the final corner in the Hobbit hole and came across a corridor we had not yet examined. A large round door was situated right in the centre of the curved passageway and I was willing to bet every hair on my head, knowing that that was Bilbo's master bedroom.

I nudged my sister in the side and her silent display of giggles ceased abruptly as she saw what I was looking at, an expression of realisation crossing her face. I didn't hesitate a moment longer and made my way towards the door, Audrey walking right next to me, excitement evident in the spring of her step. But before we even reached the door, I was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of two figures turning the corner from the hallway on the right and I collided head on with one of them, yelping at the rough contact, and I could hear by the "oomph" of my sister that she had collided with the other one, knocking the breath right out of her in the process.

"Ah, there you are!" Kili exclaimed happily from somewhere on my left.

"We've been searching for you." Fili's voice came drifting down from a spot right above my head.

_Oh, bloody hell._ I cursed inwardly. _Not these two._

I grumbled lowly in annoyance as I lifted one of my hands to rub at the spot just above my brow, trying to reduce the ache I now felt there due to the fact it had hit some part of the Dwarf in front of me. Probably his bearded chin, if the feel of coarse hair had been any indication. Said Dwarf chuckled lightly at my ministrations -probably finding some humour in the situation, a sentiment I did not share in the slightest- and to my astonishment, the sound seemed to vibrate through my own chest. My brow lifted slightly at that sensation as I followed the tremor down my arm and towards my hand.

It appeared that in a natural reflex my fingers had curled themselves into the soft fabric that was Fili's fur collar, the only support that had been close by when I had nearly lost my balance due to our collision. Now, a more demure person would have immediately broken the contact between themselves and the other -blushing ever so mildly and a shyly mumbled apology thrown in for good predictability- but I was not nearly as demure as I had most likely been raised to be. My eyes narrowed in clear vexation as I grabbed the fur more firmly in my hand, tugging the Dwarf even closer before I lifted my glare up and stared right into his eyes, and for the first genuine time that evening, honey brown met sky blue.

"Getting better acquainted, are we?" Fili's words were barely acknowledged as my posture betrayed how much his sly smile irked me.

I made a 'tsk' sound at his bold remark. "If only you were that lucky." I scoffed lowly, an irritated tremble finding its way into my voice.

Our faces were mere inches apart and I gritted my teeth in an increase of temper as I saw how the blonde Dwarf had the audacity to be amused by the state we found ourselves in, his eyes bright and his grin mischievous. My earlier exhaustion made way for my fiery temper as I was unable to control the increasing vexation this situation brought me. I opened my mouth to verbally smack that grin from his face, a throng of insults burning on the tip of my tongue, ready to be flung around in every possible direction.

"Oh, sorry." My upcoming rant was cut off by the sound of Kili's -did he sound _bashful_?- voice. "Are you alright?"

I snapped my head to the side abruptly and Fili mimicked my motion, causing one of his moustache-braids to hit me upside the head. Albeit it being not that painful, it certainly wasn't helping my incensed mood and I would've started making that point clear right then and there if the sight in front of me hadn't left me so utterly speechless.

"I- I'm fine." Audrey's stutter was barely above a whisper.

If I hadn't known any better, I would have suggested that the dark-haired Dwarf and the flustered girl in his arms had just had a very exhausting round of snogging. Audrey was practically leaning her whole weight on Kili, the palms of her hands plastered flat on his chest for support and her knees slightly bent, as if she was about to lose her footing. On the other side, Kili kept my sister locked to his chest in an awkward embrace, his hands keeping her upright by the steady grip on her upper arms, in so carrying her whole weight -which seemed to match the mere weight of a feather, according to Kili's unchallenged posture- by the strong flex of the muscles in his arms.

Now, seeing as they had both bumped into each other simultaneously with myself and Fili, their entangled figures on their own did not quite bother me. It were the close proximity of their faces, the flush on their cheeks and the comparable looks of unexplored territory and evident youthful naivety that were unmistakably present in their eyes, however, that aggravated me profoundly.

How different we were when it came to beings of the opposite sex. I compared my defensive stand -my unoccupied hand curled up in a fist as if I was about to physically assault the Dwarf in front of me- to my sister's obvious show of flustered submission and fleetingly wondered where our diversity found its roots; unsure if the memory attached to that answer was something to anticipate with either repose or apprehension.

I didn't know why exactly, but the sight in front of me made my blood boil in imminent rage and combined terror. It was like someone had enveloped a hand around my heart, perforating the fragile tissue with blunt nails and squeezing the muscle together until it felt almost impossible to breathe anymore.

If someone had told me then that the stifling sensation taking my heart in its clutches was a feeling of foreboding combined with a mild dash of healthy jealousy, I would have laughed out loud at the absolute ridicule of that statement. (Most ardently at the last part.) No, I was merely looking out for my baby sister -something every older sibling was prone to do- and I was determined to keep Audrey as far away as possible from this young pair of troublemakers; for that was what they obviously were, no matter how many times my sister would refer to them as her 'Knights in Shining Armour'.

I cleared my throat loudly which successfully evaporated the sickeningly sweet atmosphere that had established itself between Kili and Audrey. They started out of their mutual reverie and practically jumped apart at the sound, leaving a more respectable gap between them.

When Audrey met my judging stare, my eyes narrowed into barely visible slits and my brow pulled low over them in obvious distaste, she had the decency to look sheepish, twiddling her fingers around each other in embarrassment, her face a right shade of crimson.  
Kili, on the other hand, had his ever-present impish grin plastered on his face, looking immensely smug about the whole situation -even though his own roguish posture could not entirely hide the flush of red colouring the tips of his ears. He directed the -positively devilish- glint in his dark eyes towards his older brother, and I was sure that if I hadn't shot the blonde Dwarf -who I was still holding in a firm grip by his collar- an almost murderous look at that point, he would have giving his younger brother the thumbs up. The spark of fire in my eyes promising him a world of hurt if he so much as _dared_ to encourage his younger brother's behaviour.

"Err... Lil?" Came the timid voice of my sister. "What are you doing?" She wondered out loud as she eyed my curled up fist wearily and trailed her stare over my arm towards my other hand disappearing in Fili's collar.

When Audrey and Kili had jumped apart, I had allowed myself to breathe normally once again and the heated feelings twisting and twirling around in my stomach had subsided gradually, which was the only reason why I was able to hold it together at my sister's question. But that did not mean my temper had already entirely disappeared, which was why I couldn't stop myself from drawling out the sarcastic comment I saw fit to grace her with as an answer.

"Well, unlike some of us, I don't immediately succumb to the title-role of 'Damsel in Distress' when I get knocked over by some random guy." My tone was dry and devoid from any regard for the receiver's feelings.

"Ah..." Audrey visibly flinched at my callous remark as she had not yet sensed the mood which I found myself in. "But... do you really think that what you're about to do is that much better?" She questioned as she tilted her head to indicate I was still holding my hand in a fist, the knuckles white from the strain and positioned exactly so, to punch Fili square in the face.

I roughly let go of the blonde Dwarf's fur collar, a spark of anger running up my spine as I did not appreciate the fact that my sister had a valid point there. Still, seeing as her own reaction had been the completely brain-damaged approach of falling right into the open arms of this _random guy_, I felt strengthened in my own -what I believed was a- more sensible reaction to the situation and found that my sister had absolutely no room to talk.

I took a step towards her, the expression 'not amused' clearly written on my face, and even though she was merely two or three inches shorter than myself, it was enough of a height difference for me to stare her down.

"If he turns out to be a rancid rape-happy git, then yes." I said to her pointedly, gazing at her in such a way that it looked like I was speaking from experience. The absolute certainty in my own voice made me absentmindedly wonder, with a stab of dread puncturing my heart, if that was actually the case.

I subsequently tore my eyes away from Audrey's -now very timid- facial expression to give each Dwarf brother a look-over and I wasn't so single-minded to think that Fili and Kili looked anything like the rape-happy sort. Still, I was trying to make a point and I thought fleetingly that it served them right. Turning up like that and scaring the hell out of me; such an act was not something I would let go unpunished.

"Oi!" Kili exclaimed loudly as he understood what I was trying to say and his determined expression told me he was not just going to let my comment slip over his head. "My brother would never-" he spluttered indignantly. "And neither would I, for that matter. It was just an accid-"

His aghast attempts to defend himself and his brother amused me somewhat, but I found he needed to be taught not to but-in on other people's conversations.

"I'm sorry, but at what point in this conversation did you believe I was in need of your opinion?" I cut the dark-haired Dwarf off with an unimpressed tilt of the head and one cocked pedantic eyebrow. He just gaped at me in response, unable to come up with a suitable reply.

Kili's completely dumbfounded expression made me think of a dark-eyed guppy-fish at feeding time and the mental image was so satisfying that I could feel the few remnants of my temper fading away slowly. It occurred to me that I missed telling people to shut up, if my current contented feeling was anything to go by. And, even so, rendering them utterly speechless with my stinging words of sarcasm was an even more enjoyable sensation.  
Audrey had kept quiet ever since I had snapped at her, but as she seemed to think Kili's expression was hilarious, she had clapped her hands in front of her mouth and was failing miserably to keep her giggles from escaping through the cracks in her fingers. Her laughter made the dark-haired Dwarf's ears flush bright red in embarrassment.

"Kili, behave." His brother chided playfully, a small smile playing on his lips, making his moustache-braids lift up ever so mildly, as he was clever enough to notice that I had lost the previous tension in my shoulders. He inclined his head in my general direction as a show of his exculpation. "We apologize for the inconvenience of our greeting." He said and his blue eyes locked themselves onto my own, never leaving my ever-measuring gaze, as he continued to speak. "We only wanted to talk to you about-"

"It's late." I stated drily, cutting the blonde Dwarf's sentence in half. "Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow?"

Even though my mood was lifted back into its neutral state of guarded emotions, I still had my attention onto the round door in the centre of the corridor, reminding myself of the urgent reason that guided us in our search for the master of the house. Whatever it was the two Dwarf brothers wanted to talk about needed to wait. There really wasn't much time left before Bilbo would lay himself down for the night, and I was reluctant to wake the nice Hobbit up.

"I'm afraid not." Fili said and an exasperated sigh left me at his words as my attention was grudgingly moved back to his braided golden head. "We needed to inform you that-"

"You know what?" I said abruptly, successfully cutting him off once again as I was unwilling to waist any more time. "No."

Two blonde eyebrows were raised high in question at my odd remark. "No?" Fili repeated.

"No." I stated again, my features unwavering while I made to grab a hold of my sister's wrist. "We were on our way to see Mr. Bilbo about a matter of actual importance." I told them hurriedly, not really in the mood to give them an explanation, but aware of the fact that they would not just let us go without one. My hand connected with Audrey's arm and I started to guide her along towards our destination, dragging her unceremoniously behind me as she hadn't anticipated my sudden need for a quick getaway. "And seeing as it's already past midnight, we don't have any time for an idle chat."

I saw how Fili's brow shot back over his eyes and it was clear that he was somewhat annoyed at my lack of interest. He probably didn't care much for being ignored, and he stubbornly tried to hold on to my attention, his voice now matching his mildly irritated expression. "But we just needed to tell you-"

I was not about to give him the pleasure of saying what he so desperately wanted to say and I shot him a glare. "What part of 'no' do you not understand." My voice was getting strained again. I really just wanted to get this day over with and find a nice warm bed to sleep in as a new wave of exhaustion washed over me.

"Come on, Lil." Audrey tried to soothe me as she grounded me gently to a standstill. "Just let them say their bit. I'm sure it won't take long." She reasoned as she pried my fingers from her wrist.

I sighed loudly and met her eyes with renewed annoyance, the brown of my irises resembling sparkling gold in the dimly lit corridor. Innocent baby blues stared right back at me and the corners of Audrey's lips were turned up in an encouraging smile. I pursed my lips in silent agreement, too weary to deny my sister this simple proposal. "You have precisely _one_ minute." I put up my index finger for emphasize as I redirected my gaze once more towards Fili.

My momentary show of defeat seemed to suit the golden-haired brother just fine. "We were asked to inform you that we leave at daybreak."

"Noted." I responded drily, a burning heat settling itself back into the pit of my stomach as I made a mental note to myself to show this overconfident Dwarf my unyielding nature when the time called for it. "Anything else?"

"Well,..." He hesitated as his smile grew bold and he locked eyes with his brother who nodded at him enthusiastically, encouraging him to say the real reason that had made them pursuit us. Because I really couldn't believe that they had been looking for us in this maze that was Mr. Bilbo's home with the single reason to tell us the time of our departure. They could have easily looked for us in the morning to tell us it was time to leave. Fili cleared his throat and directed his gaze back at me, an expression of both mischief and honesty evident in the bright glint of his eyes; a strange combination that made me be on my guard. "After we heard about miss Audrey's dreadful situation, we thought we'd offer you our protection."

"Your protection?" I repeated sceptically, barely able to retain my absolute lack of interest.

"Yes." Fili breathed, his voice too light-hearted for me to believe the complete sincerity of his statement. "We could keep an eye on you and keep you from harm."

"Aye!" Kili piped up, his dark eyes bright with enthusiasm, which was once again a clear indication for me to believe they had something other in mind aside from the noble gesture of keeping us safe. "My brother and I have trained for this for ages! You'd have nothing to worry about, we're very skilled fighters."

_How modest._ I thought and rolled my eyes.

Fili gave his brother a broad smile and clapped him on the back, a spark of affection flitting across the blue in his eyes before addressing me again. "We could try teaching you how to wield a sword, if you'd like."

He scrutinized both myself and my sister's appearance with such an intense expression on his face that there was no doubt in my mind anymore that before me stood the nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, as the Dwarf-leader had given Bilbo a similar look-over when he had stepped over the threshold of the Hobbit's home. Their faces were so alike, so identical in bone structure; I wondered why I hadn't noticed it sooner. Maybe Fili's unusual fair hair distracted the onlooker from the obvious family resemblance.

"Or a bow!" Kili exclaimed, excitement evident in his eyes as he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet to demonstrate his skill to the both of us.

Audrey giggled and clapped her hands together in mirroring elation, eyes shining like little stars. "Oh, that would be wonderful!" The ebullience barely concealed in her voice as she shot Kili a broad toothy smile, her cheeks flushing a faint pink when he returned her gesture with a beaming grin of his own.

"You're very kind, but we don't need anyone's protection." I chose to use the diplomatic approach, but my words broke the happy and carefree bubble that had come over this conversation nonetheless. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Are you certain of that?" Fili retorted, his impudent smile still present and there was something in his all-knowing tone of voice that made my stomach knot together in vexation. "There are a lot of horrible things out there, you know, beyond the borders of the Shire." One of his eyebrows was raised in a perfectly golden arch and he enunciated every word so clearly that I had the distinct impression he was trying to sound like an adult explaining something very difficult to a child.

I furrowed my brow at his confident demeanour. "We're not completely ignorant of the dangers that involve this quest." I snapped, my eyes narrowing once more to show the fair-haired Dwarf that he was moving onto thin ice with his assertive attitude.

Kili lowered his voice and looked from me to my sister with wide eyes. "But there are Orcs." He whispered with such an ill talent in acting that I wondered if he seriously believed I was going to be fooled by his act of feigned fright.

"Oh!" Came the shocked gasp of my sister and I mentally face-palmed, reprimanding myself at my forgetfulness, seeing as it had momentarily slipped my mind that I was standing next to the most naive and gullible girl on the entire planet.

Audrey's reaction made the brothers smirk at one another -thinking I would not notice- and Fili continued their list of horrible creatures. "Goblins," he said in an eerie sort of voice.

"Trolls," Kili pitched in.

"Wargs," Fili started counting on his fingers.

I could hear Audrey's pitiful whimpers next to me and as I looked sideways, I saw that her face had lost its colour and was now comparable with the white of her frail under dress. Once more that evening, her eyes were glazed over and it seemed as if she could practically see each and every foul creature the brothers called by name moving past her eyelids.  
Her reactions made me arch my eyebrows in combined wonder and aggravation. Was Audrey's imagination really this vivid? Or was there actually something going on with her that I did not know about? Whatever the case, I had decided that we had come to the end of our discussion and opened my mouth to say as much, in so successfully ceasing the mental assaults my sister seemed to suffer at the brother's taunting voices.

"Elves," Kili ended their long list as he spat out the name of the last 'creature' with an absolutely disgusted expression on his face.

"Now, look here- I... What?" At that last word Audrey and I shared a look and it seemed like we were having a rather silly contest, entitled: 'Who Can Look The Most Dumbfounded'. I shook my head back to the task at hand and waved my arm in the air to try and get the brothers' attention. "Look, you've had your minute, you've said what you wanted to say, you've made your point." I snapped. "Now we really have to go and talk to Mr. Bilbo." I grabbed my sister's wrist again and prepared to turn around in the direction of the designated door.

"So,..." Fili's voice made me look back with a snap and narrowed eyes. "We are in agreement about our proposition then?"

Their words and their attitudes could have probably been better chosen, but that did not mean I did not saw the reasoning in their proposal. It would probably benefit me and my sister if there were two Dwarves in the company who kept an extra eye on us. Personally, I did not believe I needed any form of protection. I was cautious enough to stay out of immediate danger. Audrey, on the other hand, was a whole other story and having someone else to help keep her from harm would probably ease my own mental suffering quite a bit.  
This did not mean I trusted Fili and Kili. I still believed they had other motives for offering us their protection. Nevertheless, I decided to take the diplomatic approach and not immediately decline their offer.

"I'll think about it." I said with a hint of a smirk covering my lips.

I nodded my head in a silent goodbye and was happy to finally turn around and make my way towards Bilbo's bedroom. There was no need any more to guide Audrey along as she fell into step next to me. But not before she had given the brothers a final bright smile and a barely audible whispered, "Goodnight."

" 'night." I could hear Kili's mumbled response and peeked my head around just enough to see him smile a small smile while he eyed our retreating backs. Or, more precisely: my sister's retreating back.  
His brother nudged him playfully in the side and I could hear the jaunty banter that sprung alive between them subside gradually as they made their way in the opposite direction, back towards the parlour I reckoned, if my sense of direction hadn't failed me yet.

"I'm so happy you did not tell them 'no'." Audrey told me, the bright smile on her face conveying a deep feeling of appreciation. "They're so nice for wanting to help us." She mused in afterthought.

I hummed in response. "I believe there is another reason for their... generosity." I weighed my words carefully, as I did not desire my sister's contented mood to dissolve. "They want to keep us close, that's for certain... Maybe to have a laugh at our expense." I tried to make my accusation come across as a mere suggestion, a simple hint of the mind.

"Oh, Lil!" Audrey smiled her toothy smile, her laugh ringing around the corridor like an array of little silver bells. "Why do you always think people have a hidden agenda?"

I smiled along with her light-hearted pleasantry, but made a promise to myself as well. I had seen the way my sister looked at Kili, and it had been rather impossible to ignore how said Dwarf had looked at her. I was going to keep an extra eye on the two young Dwarves, that fact I had already established, but more importantly, I would be ever watchful when it was the dark-haired brother who would seek out the company of my sister. And even though I already knew the lot of them -Fili, Kili _and_ Audrey- were going to give me grey hairs, a little flair of amusement stroked along my spine at the thought of having to chaperone the two youngest members of the company.

We finally stood in front of the last door in the Hobbit hole we had not yet tried to open, and I locked eyes with my sister for a brief moment, making sure she was once again aware of the task at hand. When I was assured of her determined expression, I lifted my hand and knocked on the door three times.

"Mr. Bilbo? Can we come in?" I asked loudly through the closed door, hoping the Hobbit would let us in.

"Coming!" We heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door and I recognized it is Bilbo's. The door opened to reveal the master of the house peeking cautiously around it. "Ah! Miss Lillian. Miss Audrey." He sounded relieved that it was us. "Come in, come in."

He opened his door a little wider to let us pass into what seemed to be the master bedroom. A grand mahogany bed stood against the wall, covered with bright yellow sheets, several flower-patterns imprinted onto the rich fabric and about half a dozen fluffy pillows, filled with goose-feathers, placed along the head of the mattress. A large trunk, carved from the same mahogany wood, was placed at the foot of the bed and an identical-looking wardrobe from the one in the spare-bedroom stood sturdily against the other wall. Several small candles burned brightly in brass girandoles, massively lighting up the room as I could see the night sky through the circular windows had turned pitch-black.

"You're erm... not send here by Gandalf, are you?" Bilbo asked fearfully, teetering on his hairy toes.

My sleep-deprived mind shot him an annoyed look -seriously, why would I be willing to carry around Gandalf's messages?- and I managed just in time to stop the first thing I was about to say from escaping the borders of my lips. _("Do I look like an errand boy to you?") _Instead, I managed to snap my mouth back shut and settle for the more diplomatic answer of, "No, we're here on our own account."

Bilbo's face relaxed. "Ah, okay, splendid." He said, relieved. "So, what can I help you with?"

The Hobbit in front of me had shown me so much kindness since Gandalf had pushed me through his door -something I felt I hadn't had a lot of experience with before- that I couldn't get it over my heart asking him for more. I recalled my challenging conversation with Thorin and how Mr. Bilbo had stayed by my side, even when I had made him lie to a very intimidating Dwarf. I decided that I still needed to thank Bilbo for that amazing feat of trust, thus that is what I started with.

"First I want to apologise." I said truthfully.

Bilbo looked at me with raised eyebrows, confusion written on his face. "What ever for?"

"For putting you in a quite uncomfortable position earlier," I said and elaborated further as Bilbo still did not seem to know what I was talking about, "When I made you lie and tell Thorin Oakenshield that we were related."

Bilbo's chuckle caught me by surprise. "You did not make me do anything." He told me, his eyes wrinkling in the corners as he smiled broadly at me. "As I recall, I _chose_ to agree with your little mistruth."

The corners of my lips were tugged up in a smile as well, very much relieved that Bilbo did not seem troubled with our momentary mutual lack of sincerity. "Still, I hope you do not mind that these Dwarves now think we're related."

"Not at all." Bilbo said and his smile faltered ever so slightly as he seemed lost in a sudden mood of melancholy. "I would have loved to have cousins like the both of you." He shook out whatever sad reverie he was having and cocked an eyebrow in thought. "I just have one question," he asked and nervously rubbed his hands together, eyeing me with uncertainty, "Why _did_ you tell Thorin we were related?"

I knew he was going to ask me that question sooner or later and I decided that the truth would not be a wrong thing to answer with this time around. "At the time I found it the only acceptable reason for me and my sister to be at your house so late in the evening. I did not want to ruin your respectful reputation."

Bilbo's ears turned a little red at that. "That was most thoughtful of you." He said and looked down at his hairy feet, probably afraid that he might start blushing more feverishly if he would meet my eyes. "But, I wonder..." He murmured and his questioning tone made my stomach knot together anxiously. "Why didn't you just say that you were lead here by Gandalf? That would have been the truth, wouldn't it?"

I met my sister's gaze and saw she had also been fearing further interrogation by our host, even though his intentions were purely lead by simple curiosity. I had thought about saying we had been summoned here by the wizard, but I knew that would have only lead to the question of where we actually hailed from and why we had been brought here. Seeing as the answers to those questions would have been impossible for me to formulate, let alone comprehend myself, I had dismissed that option.

Bilbo noticed the inner struggle I was having and quickly piped up again, hoping to erase the worried frown off of my face. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to pry!" He exclaimed. "It's really none of my business."

"No, no, that's okay." I tried to reassure him, but I couldn't stop a sigh from escaping my lips as I tried to appease the Hobbit, even if it was just a little. "Let's just say, Mr. Bilbo, that the truth -the whole truth- would have been _very_ difficult to explain..."

Bilbo' embarrassed facade got replaced by worry. "I can see you are burdened with something. Is- Is there anything I can do to help you?" He asked, anxious to see the gloomy look disappear from our faces.

I smiled sadly at him. "You cannot help us, Mr. Bilbo. Not with this." And as I said that, the gravity of the situation shot right back through my heart, my rational mind still in doubt about all of this. I shrugged those concerns away for the moment and addressed the Hobbit once more, keeping my voice light as to not give away my darkened thoughts. "However, you could help us with a more pressing matter at hand." I faltered. "Though you have already been so kind and generous to us, I feel a bit guilty asking for more."

"Aiding you has been my pleasure." Bilbo said happily. "What is it you need?"

"We were wondering if we could lend some more clothes from you?" I asked as I inclined my head to my sister, still wearing Bilbo's nightgown, to show what I meant. "And maybe a knapsack to keep our belongings in? I'm guessing this journey will be long and tedious. So, we should probably prepare and ready ourselves."

My talk about the quest wiped to broad smile from earlier off of the Hobbit's face. "You are really going then?" He said in a small voice and I was not sure if I imagined it, but it sounded as if he was envying us.

"Yes." I said matter-of-factly.

Bilbo stayed quiet for a moment longer, opening his mouth once every few minutes as if he was trying to convey something to us, but the words did not seem to pass the barrier of his vocal cords. He furrowed his brow and exhaled slowly, probably trying to get his wits about him.

"Alright then!" He suddenly exclaimed. "I think I have a few travelling-things right here," he said as he started rummaging through his closet, "and you can take as many clothes as you want from the wardrobe in the spare bedroom." He rambled on as he pulled two beautiful leather knapsacks out of the wooden depths of the wardrobe and gave one to each of us. "You should also pack a bedroll each; I think I still have some over here." He said more to himself than to any of us and ran towards the mahogany chest at the end of his bed, where he pulled two sausage-like packages, wrapped in rain-resistant cloth. "Aha! Here they are! And some blankets as well..." He pulled a few woollen blankets out of the chest and stuffed both items in our open arms. "...here you go!"

"This is too much!" I was staring open-mouthed at the materialised generosity in my arms. "We cannot take all of this!"

"Nonsense!" Bilbo waved away my protests. "You'll be needing it more than I do."

"So," Audrey piped up. "Does that mean you are really not coming with us, Mr. Bilbo sir?"

Bilbo's voice sounded sad when he answered my sister, "I'm afraid not, I- I do not think I am cut out for adventures." He fumbled nervously with his braces. "And please, it's just Bilbo." He breathed as he tried to look a lot more happy about his decision than what I assumed he actually felt. "We are family after all." He winked conspiringly.

Audrey giggled at that. "Okay than, Bilbo."

"Oh! I almost forgot." Bilbo exclaimed suddenly and he reached into one of his pockets to reveal a bread-bun wrapped in a napkin. I recognized it as the bun he had stowed away carefully behind his back as he had offered Dwalin the whole tray many hours ago, when he was still blissfully unaware of the twelve other unwanted visitors that were still to come. "I saved this from the beastly appetite of the Dwarves." He scrunched up his nose at the thought of his pillaged pantry. "You still haven't eaten, have you? Here." He gave the bun to my sister.

Audrey beamed at him and her stomach rumbled as if she remembered only now that she was practically starving. "Thank you. That's so sweet." She said and took a bite, chewing with her eyes closed. "Mmm, it's delicious!"

Bilbo's cheeks now matched the red colour of his ears and I smiled at the sight, a feeling of affection raising towards the surface of my conscience as I saw the interaction between the Hobbit and my sister. "We're going to miss you, Bilbo." I told him truthfully.

"And I'm going to miss you." Bilbo answered and there was genuine sadness in his voice. It was quiet for a few moments until the master of the house seemed to pull himself back together and he breathed out a laugh. "Now, look at us!" He exclaimed, trying to smile despite himself. "Such sentimental sods we are! I'm positive that we will see each other again." He nodded his head at his own declaration as if he wanted to assure himself as well and continued by gently ushering us out of his room. "Now, off you go to the spare bedroom. You can fill your sacks with everything you need. No buts!" He shouted the last part with a smile as he had anticipated my protest. "Hmm, maybe there are some bread-buns or biscuits left in the kitchen." The hobbit mused to himself. "I will go see to that and bring them to you."

As Bilbo made his way towards the kitchen I sighed out loudly. "I never thought I'd be sad to leave this cosy Hobbit hole."

"I know." Audrey mimicked my sigh and watched as Bilbo's back disappeared around a corner. "And Bilbo is just such a nice Hobbit. I do hope he will still change his mind..." She mused.

I shook my head good-humouredly. "You really want him to come along, don't you?"

"Hmm, I don't know, but I feel like we are going to see each other again sooner than we think." Audrey hummed, wiggling back and forth on the balls of her feet and even though I noticed the glimmer of certainty in her eyes, I was too fatigued to think twice on the matter and just shrugged her declaration away.

We made our way back towards the spare bedroom and did as Bilbo had told us to do; stuffing our backpacks full with clothes; some spare underclothing, socks, trousers, blouses, dresses, scarves,... Anything we thought would be useful on the journey.

And as both me and my sister settled ourselves onto the large bed, covering ourselves with the warm blankets to finally get some well-earned sleep, we could hear the deep voices of the Dwarves ghosting along the curved walls of the Hobbit hole; tickling our ears with a rich and sorrowful hymn.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold  
To dungeons deep  
And caverns old  
We must away  
'ere break of day  
To find our long forgotten gold

The pines were roaring on the height  
The winds were moaning in the night  
The fire was red  
It flaming spread  
The trees like torches blazed with light"

The song was oddly lethargic and as my mind fogged over with the blissful sensation of sleep, a fleeting, faraway thought found its way towards the sensible part of my conscience, whispering that tomorrow I would wake up in my own flat and this odd day would have all just been a very silly dream.

Yes, that would certainly do.

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**~ Will be continued ~**

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**Author's Note:** There you have it! The end of Chapter One! I would love some **REVIEWS** from all of you. It makes me curious to know what you think of the twists in my fairy-dusted brain! **;)** Oh! And what do you guys think of the new image? It's a wallpaper I made myself with the aid of stubborn dedication and Photoshop. ***w*  
**I just realized, I actually have no idea what colour Bilbo's eyes are... So I made them brown... If any of you know, you can always tell me. **:)**


	8. Chapter 2

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**- Chapter Two -**

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_"Up jumped Bilbo, and putting on his dressing-gown went into the dining-room. There he saw nobody, but all the signs of a large and hurried breakfast. [...] Indeed he was really relieved after all to think that they had all gone without him [...] and yet in a way he could not help feeling just a trifle disappointed. The feeling surprised __him.__"_

~ J.R.R. Tolkien

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	9. Part I - The Breakfast Club

**A/N:** I'm struggling with the fact that I think I'm writing to many endless explanations instead of writing more dialogue between the characters. What do you guys think? Do you like my writing style the way it is? Or would you rather have more spoken interaction between all the characters? Let me know if you have an opinion on this, pretty please. Because I'm not sure about my style anymore.  
An enormous shoutout to all my reviewers from last time: _'total-animal-lover', 'LarienSurion', 'Phantomessangel', 'Siamsa', 'Vaughn Tyler', 'Immer wenn es dunkel wird', 'Dinogeek', '3 LMS 3'_ and all the 'guests'. Thank you so much, all of you!

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**~ Part I ~**

**{[~ Audrey's P.O.V. ~]}**

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**The Breakfast Club**

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Daybreak came sooner than I had expected.

Waves of sunlight bathed the comfortable chamber in a gorgeous glow of gold and I lazily stretched my arms above my head as the last remnants of sleep slowly lost their battle against my waking mind.  
It had, however, not been the beams of light which had awoken me; instead, it had been the cacophony of sounds that resounded outside, the incessant twittering of birds and the first signs of a village awakening. I hummed lightly in my throat as a yawn escaped me, mindlessly combing through my mop of excessively curled hair and I carefully threw the bundle of sheets on my side of the king-sized bed off of my legs.

Silently -as I did not want to wake my sister who was still fast asleep on the other side of the bed- I crept over to the beautifully carved mahogany commode that stood against the wall in between the only two circular windows of the room. The warm radiance streaming through the curtains gave me more than enough light to study my reflection in the oval mirror, perched atop the wooden piece of furniture, and I stared in wonder at my altered reflection.  
I trailed my fingers from my rosy cheeks over my rounded jaw line towards the pointy ends of my ears before they disappeared into the wild chocolate-coloured ringlets that currently constituted my hair, and I couldn't help the wide smile from forming on my lips as a warm, bubbly feeling of elation and glee settled itself around my heart upon gazing at my new appearance.

Oh, how thrilled I had been when I had been safely guided to this cosy Hobbit Hole, my own sister there to greet me, and sensing the primary feeling of shock wash away rapidly as the vastness and fantastical awareness of this place found my enraptured eyes.  
I knew, from the instant I stepped across Bilbo Baggins' threshold, I had somehow been translocated to a world of fiction. A prodigious world that was enclosed in several works of literature. Wonderful literature, printed carefully in leather-bound books, written by a man named J.R.R. Tolkien. And I had read all of them.

I was in Bag End, The Shire, Middle Earth.

And I could still scarcely believe it.

I never thought about the fact that this could not be possible, that the only explanation for me and Lillian's appearance in this world could only be explained as a very life-like dream or an unconscious mirage; a thought -I knew- had kept my sister sane from the moment she had found herself lying on one of the many glowing green hills that adorned this peaceful part of the world. Oh, how surprised she will be when she wakes up to see the events of yesterday were all very real indeed!

The excitement I felt for what was still to come was plainly visible on my face; I was practically glowing with delight! And yet, there was something that bothered me. Something that had me confused ever since I entered this Hobbit Hole.  
Just like my sister, a vast amount of my memories had been erased and I had to admit, I had felt more than a little concerned about that fact. But from the moment I had laid eyes upon the young Dwarf brothers who had been eager to assist me and tell me there names ("Fíli and Kíli. At your service!"), it had felt like someone had lit a candle inside the dark and dusty chamber that was my head. I knew those names! I had seen them somewhere before; I had read about them! And when -later in the evening- Bilbo decided he would not accompany the Dwarves, yet another candle had sparked to life, and the clenching sensation I had felt in my stomach told me that this was not how things were supposed to happen. I somehow _knew_ that Bilbo Baggins was to be the Dwarves' burglar; though trying to convince Lillian of my gut-feeling had been arduous as I could not explain to her _why_ I felt this way. How could I, when I barely understood it myself?!

Than we overheard Thorin and Balin conversing about the upcoming struggle they were about to face, and later on we bumped into Fili and Kili who started listing up several of the foul creatures that were known to roam these lands; and it was as if the previous fog that had filled my brain got lifted just enough for me to actually _know_ about the Dwarves' grief-stricken past and for me to _know_ how each and every one of these horrendous beasts looked like.  
The dim lights of recognition had started to kindle and it was enough for me to commence in connecting the dots; connecting each little flame of remembrance with the next one, and the next one, until the memory had come back to me in a sudden flash of blinding light as I overheard the solemn voices of the Dwarves echo the song of their people through the cracks of our room.

And just before I felt exhaustion overtake me and I succumbed into a fitful slumber, I remembered with absolute clarity which story of Middle Earth we had found ourselves in: _The Hobbit_.

As I was now looking my Hobbit-fied self over, I distinctly remembered reading that book, and I remembered every little occurrence that had passed so far. Yet when I willed myself to remember more, there was only darkness, and -for the life of me- I could not remember how the story continued on any further.  
The pieces of the puzzle had started to set, yet it would take more lit candles for me to locate the other remaining pieces in the darkness-filled hollow of my mind. The confused frown on my face melted away as I told myself to be patient; it would all come back to me eventually. There was no need to worry fruitlessly about things that were sure to come -because I _knew_ they would come ultimately- when there were so many wonderful things waiting to be seen and experienced!

I was lifted out of my reverie as I distinguished the silent knocks on the door of our room and I walked over to answer it; a spring in my step as I could not contain the excitement I felt for this marvellous world any longer.

I opened the door just wide enough for me to stick my head through, revealing a copper-haired Dwarf who was wearing a purple knitted cardigan and grey finger-less mittens. He still had a young, ruddy face adorned with a splash of freckles, and I thought I remembered him being one of the more polite Dwarves in the company.

I smiled widely. "Hi!" I piped up before I could stop myself.

"Erm... H- hello." He answered shyly and his stutter -matched with his flushing cheeks- was so utterly adorable that it made me giggle silently. "I- I- I was sent to wake both you and your sister." He explained his presence and looked at his boots while speaking, probably to stop himself from stammering. "We're to head out in about an hour. If you'd like, my brother Dori is making breakfast. But you'd better hurry if you still want some. I'm not sure there will be anything left when Mister Bombur and the Masters Fíli and Kíli wake up."

"Oh, thank you for thinking about us, that is really nice of you." I said pleasantly. "Please, will you tell me your name?"

"O-oh, it's Ori, miss." His big, brown and innocent-looking eyes met mine briefly before he shifted them back towards the tips of his heavy leather boots and bowed his copper head in greeting, his cheeks now resembling scarlet. "At your service."

"Thank you, Ori." I replied and copied his former gesture by matching his bow with one of my own. "Audrey Darrow, at yours."

Ori lifted the corners of his mouth timidly at my display of a cordial greeting and I gave him a broad, toothy smile in return. I was about to complement our pleasant introductions with an equally enjoyable conversation when we were interrupted by the grumbling mumbles coming from somewhere beneath the blankets of the king-sized bed.  
Lillian's half-waking mind must have been disturbed at the sound of our voices, even though we had hardly said anything remotely clamorous.

I looked from the red mop of hair that was my sister back to Ori, an apologetic smile visible on my face. "Why don't you go and enjoy some breakfast?" I proposed. "I'll wake up my sister and we'll be there shortly."

Ori agreed with my suggestion. "Okay. S-see y-you at breakfast then." He nodded and quickly shuffled out of view, his ears visibly tinted a deep scarlet.

I closed the door and made my way back towards the bed where my sister was still curled up -very similar to a cat- on her side of the mattress. I lifted myself back on my side of the bed and crawled forward until I was sitting on my knees beside Lillian, her back turned to me, and I gently shook her shoulder.

"Lil?" I tried silently.

No reaction.

"Lil?" I tried again and shook her shoulder a bit more forcefully. "Lillian?"

Still, there was no reaction. She did not even try to swat my hand away, as if she barely felt it squeezing into the skin of her upper arms. I huffed at her lack of acknowledgement and bend over to raise my voice right next to her ear. "Lil!"

But my sister barely stirred. "Five more minutes." I could hear her muffled grunt from somewhere under the blankets.

I rolled my eyes good-humouredly at her reaction and somewhere in the back of my mind a memory flickered to life and I remembered that my sister had never been much of a morning person. She always managed to smack the alarm clock so hard, the gears and wires sprung out of the outer confinement. And if that did not stop the noise yet, Lillian would throw it against the wall which, though mostly effective, sometimes still did not stop the -now distorted- beeping. In the end Lillian had solved that problem by drowning the clock in the glass of water she always kept on her nightstand.

Our mother was more than fed up with her oldest daughter's behaviour and the fact that she needed to buy a new alarm clock every single time Lillian had wrecked it. Therefore she had decided to put the alarm on _my_ nightstand instead, making me in charge of waking up my sister since I was around the age of four. Which meant that I knew a thing or two when it came to this exact situation. The most effective course of action was tickling, and a playful smirk covered my features as I moved from words (or more precisely _thoughts_) to action.

The reaction was immediate.

"Huh?! Wha- What?! What are you _doing_?!" Lillian exclaimed hoarsely, wriggling around to avoid my nimble fingers; but her attempts at a breakout were to no avail as she merely managed to tangle her limbs in and around the blankets, cocooning herself into a state of immobility.

"Ugh!" She managed to free her arms and tried to slap my hands away, but I quickly sat myself on top of her, pinning her down beneath me and continuing my relentless tickle-attack. All the while laughing so widely that my cheeks started to ache from the stretch.

I had forgotten, though, that Lillian was a lot more stronger and lithe than myself. Even when wrapped in a recalcitrant piece of fabric. "Okay, I'm up!" She exclaimed and managed to kick me off of her, making me roll onto my back and by so, giving her the perfect opportunity to reverse our rolls. "I'm up!" She snarled in my face as she was now sitting on top of me, her hands wrapped around my wrists, holding them at either side of my head.

I tried to stifle my giggles as Lillian's very annoyed expression did not invite any form of pleasantry at the moment. But her unintelligent yapping from before, her enormous mass of red bed-hair and her disgruntled appearance made me fail miserably.

Lillian's miffed expression made way for one of perplexity. "What the-?" She started silently, a frown materializing on her face. "What are you doing in my bed?" She asked. "Hang on... This isn't my bed..." She corrected herself as she made a quick scan around the room, before she locked her eyes with me again, confusion now very evidently visible in her eyes. "Where the _bloody_ fuck are we?" She demanded in a low growl.

I knew this was going to happen. I sighed sadly as I scanned my sister's obvious expression of disbelief, knowing that her rational mind had no desire to succumb to the previous night's events and did a marvellous job in keeping her in denial of this fantastical world. "Erm..." I hesitated and tried to scrunch up my face in a way that would not show how doleful I felt at Lillian's lack of acceptance. "We're at Mr. Bilbo's home. You know, the nice Hobbit who gave us clothes and bag packs and bedrolls and bread buns and-"

"W- What?!" Lillian's exclamation cut me off. "You mean to say that that was all real?!"

She swung herself of the bed and stomped towards the oval mirror on top of the commode I had been admiring my Hobbit-self in just moments before and her eyes were as wide as saucers when she met her reflection, her brow furrowed in a rather comical expression of fierce indignation.

I tried to pass on as much of my positively enthusiastic acceptance of our situation and nodded excitedly. "Uhu!"

Lillian groaned and gave her reflection a look filled with the promise of coming thunder and obscurity. "Oh, that's just bloody brilliant..."

As much as I wanted to, I did not attempt any further conversation. In normal circumstances it was always a risky business trying to make Lillian participate in an oral dialogue when she had just left the warm covers of her bed. Most of the words that would escape the border of her lips would either be coated in an annoyingly thick layer of sarcasm or would contain a form of language that was not reserved for anyone below the age-rate of eighteen or for anyone who was still in the possession of clean virgin ears. And seeing as this was anything _but_ a normal circumstance, I did not think this was a very good time to attempt a conversation filled with upbeat suggestions that could make her feel less anxious, sceptical and downright unwilling in accepting this new world.

We simply dressed ourselves in silence, occasionally asking for the other's aid when it came to tightening bodices and tying up laces, but for the most part neither of us uttered a word.  
I noticed Lillian was having some sort of mental debate with herself as she seemed to struggle between the choice of wearing either trousers or a skirt; eventually she decided on the latter, even though I saw she was not entirely convinced of her own decision. For my part, I thought she looked absolutely wonderful. Her dress reached mid-calf and was a dark shade of violet, adorned with intricate and subtle flower petals in the form of orchids which were sewn onto the fabric with silver and indigo thread. Her bodice had been dipped in the same aubergine-colour and had been stiffened with bents to support her bust and show off her narrow waistline. It had a round collar that revealed the tiniest hint of a cleavage and a row of delicate brass buttons in the middle to keep it all together. The puffed up sleeves suited the dress perfectly, but would not protect her bare arms from chilling winds and pouring rain; so she had been so wise to pull on a warm woollen camisole with a long pair of sleeves right underneath her other layers.

My own outfit looked very similar. The only differences were that my bodice and skirt had been dyed aquamarine and had a fragile design of cream-coloured daisies embroidered into the cotton-like fabric. Instead of buttons, my bodice was held together by one single continuous lace, woven into a criss-cross fashion and ending in a bow around the centre of my breastbone. Thanks to my sister's suggestion I had also tugged on a warm woollen camisole with long sleeves underneath my outer garments and felt warm and comfortable in my new attire.

We checked the two piles consisting of supplies, spare clothing and other equipment that we had scrambled together late last night, to see if we had acquired all the necessary paraphernalia we assumed we needed on this sort of excursion. And when Lillian -_finely_- decided everything appeared to be accounted for, we made our way towards Bilbo's kitchen where the smell of eggs, sausages and bacon filled our nostrils and watered our mouths.

We deposited our leather knapsacks and our forest-green woollen cloaks -which we had discovered in the back of the mahogany wardrobe in the spare bedroom and were deemed extremely useful whenever we would have to be kept warm or would have to be shielded from rain- next to the round front door so they were close at hand when the time came to head out.

"Good mornin'!" A Dwarf with a funny-looking fur-trimmed hat exclaimed cheerfully when we entered the kitchen.

I repeated the greeting with joyful enthusiasm and remembered from last night that this grinning Dwarf was named Bofur, as he had been the one who had managed to reduce poor Bilbo into an unconscious heap on the floor.  
The kitchen itself was already packed with the majority of the company, all of them waiting patiently on their hearty breakfast. I waved at Ori who was seated in between another copper-haired Dwarf with some sort of star-hairdo and an older, wise-looking Dwarf with a long white beard, and received a shy wave back from the blushing young lad. I made a quick scan of the room and noticed that the leader of our party was not present, along with the burly, rather scary-looking dark-haired Dwarf and both Fíli and Kíli were yet to arrive as well. I felt a slight tinge of disappointment when I noticed the brothers' absence, but shook it away quickly as I half-heartedly reprimanded myself that I should not feel so attached to those two particular Dwarves in such a short period of time. To busy myself, I went towards the two Dwarves who were bustling about around the stove -an extremely rotund ginger Dwarf and an older, grey Dwarf with very elaborate little braids in his complicated hair- and offered them my help by putting all the bowls, pots and pans on the table.

"There is no such thing as a _good_ morning." I heard Lillian grit out and I turned momentarily -a ceramic plate in my hands as the large, ginger Dwarf filled it with an immense amount of steaming hot sausages- to see her scowling in Bofur's general direction.

"Ooooh, dear." He practically cooed in answer after he took a long drag from his pipe and grinned down at her playfully. "Not much of a mornin' person, are we lass?"

Lillian lifted her eyes to the ceiling in annoyance. "Gee, I wonder what gave me away?" She drawled sarcastically.

Bofur did not seem affected by the dark frown that was sent his way and simply gestured teasingly towards an imaginary spot above my sister's head with the nozzle of his pipe. "Well, the thundercloud hangin' above y'r brow is a clear indicator."

Lillian's scowl deepened dangerously low. "That was a rhetorical question."

"Aye, I knew tha'." Bofur replied merrily, showing off the many laugh-wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

I saw the snide remark forming in my sister's head before she had even so much as opened her mouth, and made haste to intervene, putting the steaming plate of sausages in the middle of the long wooden table with a loud _-thud-_.

"Right! Who wants some breakfast?"

My interjection conveniently cut off Lillian's retort as the Dwarves around the table cheered and clapped their hands together in elation, wasting no more time in attacking the plate of sausages with hungry determination. Lillian shot me a look of annoyance as she knew I had just stopped her from orally shoving the grinning Dwarf about six feet beneath the ground, but I was simply relieved I had been able to stop her. Poor Bofur did not deserve her wrath.  
I helped setting the rest of the table before I took a seat in the middle at the wide wooden piece of furniture, right next to Lillian who had subtly slipped into one of the unoccupied chairs, her posture rigid and her face scrunched up in a severe judging stare as she watched the Dwarves' absolute lack of table manners.

I nudged her playfully in the side and gave her a quick smile when she turned to face me. "This is nice, isn't it?"

Lillian gave me an unbelieving, incredulous look that did not need any further oral comment for me to clearly see she was of another opinion. Nevertheless, she answered my question with a fiery passion to sound as blunt as possible, "Either you're joking or you're having a mental breakdown. If it's the former, than I seriously need to educate you in the proper use of humour. If it's the latter, however, I'm afraid I'll be forced to put you in an insane asylum where you will last your days staring at the monotonous white ceilings of recreation rooms with ping pong-tables and hand puppets as your only company."

Her tone had been so dry, I had already anticipated the sarcastic drawl that would come out of her mouth, so I had simply plastered a silly smile on my face and had tuned her out after the mere second syllable. My mind a blissful blank. I ignored the negative vibes radiating from my sister and shrugged heartily when she had finished her rant, while Lillian rolled her eyes at my carefree attitude in response.

As my sister redirected her gaze at the food in front of her, I was happy to see that I sat right across from Ori and not too far from the head of the table where Bofur was seated. Just like I had thought by their friendly demeanor, they were the ones who were the most talkative at the table and I delightedly started a small conversation between the three of us. Bofur was even so nice to point out all the different Dwarves at the table and proceeded to introduce them to me: there were Nori, Dori, Bifur and Bombur; Oín, Gloín and Balin, and -of course- Ori and himself, Bofur.

"Ah!" Bofur exclaimed suddenly as he looked at the door separating the kitchen from the drawing room. "An' the masters Fíli an' Kíli." He said as the two brothers entered the room, both fully clothed, a bright glint in their eyes as they could barely contain the eagerness they felt for this official first day of the adventure. My face visibly lit up as I saw them; something that did not go unnoticed by our Dwarf with the funny hat, and he leaned in a bit closer to me, waving me over with his hand so he could whisper in my ear. "But I bet ya already knew tha', didn't ya lass?"

His teasing grin grew even wider as he saw his words had the desired effect. The underlying ambiguous accusation of his statement caused my ears to tingle in abashment and I could feel the heat spreading to my cheeks, my face glowing a light shade of red and my smile turning bashful.

"Good morning, laddies." Balin greeted the two young Dwarves cordially.

"Mornin'." Fíli answered easily as he caught my eye and gave me a playful wink, making my face heat up even more as the gesture made Bofur's attention spin back to me, the laugh wrinkles around his eyes now profoundly visible due to the amusement my reaction gave him.

But the colour in my face faded out somewhat when Kíli did not try to catch my eye and give me a similar greeting. He did not even so much as glance my way; falling gracelessly into the seat next to my sister with an exclamation of, "Oh! Bacon!", and grabbing everything within his reach to subsequently cram down his mouth. A slight sting of disappointment curled itself into my stomach, my face falling into a downcast expression for a mere second, when I was distracted by Fíli who came to sit on the chair beside me.  
He filled his own plate with abundance and dug in; his love for food just as evidently plain to see, but his mannerisms were a lot more dignified than his brother's as he, at least, took the time to use a fork.

"You look good in that dress." His voice suddenly sounded very close to my ear and I realised that the blonde Dwarf had leaned sideways so I was the only one who could overhear his statement.

I startled at his proximity. "Th- Thank you!" I exclaimed with a stutter, my face probably resembling a cherry by now.

He chuckled at my timid demeanour and decided to change the subject, even though the twinkle in his eyes clearly stated that my reaction amused him greatly. "Did you sleep well?" He asked politely as he straightened himself in his seat.

"Oh," I breathed uncertainly as I hadn't anticipated his civil inquiry. "Yes... Very well, thank you."

"Good." He nodded. "I was afraid my brother and I had scared you yesterday evening." He tilted his head so he was looking at me, our eyes meeting in a blur of blue, and elaborated when I gave him a questioning glance. "You looked rather pale when we said our goodbyes."

"Oh, n- no. Y- you didn't scare me." I said shyly as I remembered our encounter last night and the little show he and his brother had enacted by listing up every foul creature that roamed these lands with the additional scary voices and petrified faces. "Honest!" I proclaimed when Fíli gave me a sceptical look.

The corner of Fíli's mouth twitched when he eyed my determined facade, knowing full well that I had been uncomfortable -to say the least- by their representations, but he refrained from mocking me. _A very gentlemanly thing to do_, I fleetingly thought, and I smiled a little wider.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." He said, mirroring my smile in encouragement. "And even though I do not doubt your courage," he continued, "I hope you know our offer of protection still stands."

"Ah, yes." I sighed out as I saw which way this conversation was leading us, and even though Lillian hadn't said anything further about the matter, I knew she was reluctant in accepting their generous proposition. "That was very nice of you to offer and if it were only up to me, I would have gladly accepted." I told him sincerely.

"But your sister doesn't see it that way?" He guessed.

"Oh, well, I don't know." I faltered, not wanting to give him some sort of false hope. I knew Lillian thought they had an ulterior motive for presenting their protection, even though I disagreed with her on that matter. I just could not fathom any other reason Fíli and Kíli could possible have to burden themselves with two defenceless Hobbits. Nothing specifically had been said about it though. "I- I mean, we haven't really talked about it yet. So... B- But maybe I could talk to her after breakfa-"

My sentence was cut short when Lillian practically sprang onto her feet, her entire posture wind up like a spring and her angered shout cascading along the room. "Will you stop that! You're stuffing your gob in a manner that should solely be reserved for the poor and starving!" She was gesturing wildly at Kíli who was, apparently, still eating. Or more correctly; shovelling everything within his reach down his throat. "You're not even chewing anything, for God's sake!"

Kíli looked up from his plate and stared at my sister with wide innocent eyes, eyebrows raised so high that they almost reached his hairline and wearing an expression very much reminiscent to that of a kicked puppy. "Wha?" He tried to say with his mouth still full of eggs and bacon.

Lillian's former furious expression melted away when she saw the semi-grounded and mashed leftovers of breakfast swimming inside of Kíli's open mouth and the flush of red that had covered her cheeks before turned slowly into a completely different colour until she looked positively green. "That's... disgusting." She still managed to say in between the silent gagging noises that escaped the barrier of her lips.

That last observation made me arch my brow in disquiet. She looked seconds away from throwing up. "Lil..." I tried to shift her attention to me and raised my hand to lay it on her arm in a gentle gesture. "You don't look too good..."

But even though she might have looked -and felt- utterly sick, the only thing my comment managed to do was remind her of the fact that she had been in a phenomenal foul mood before her face started to resemble the colour of lettuce. "Gosh, isn't that funny?" She drawled as she turned her narrowed eyes on me, a dry smile on her lips. "Because, you see, I don't _feel_ too good either." She divulged loftily before rolling her eyes in clear vexation.

I removed my hand with a jolt, as if her stinging words had just electrocuted my limb and I couldn't help myself from looking completely dejected. Lillian did not seem to care though, as she took one last scathing look at both me and Kíli before she pushed her chair back and addressed the remainder of the kitchen occupants. "Excuse me." She said as she squared her shoulders and retreated towards the adjacent corridor.

I followed her figure out of the corner of my eye as a pleasant rumble of voices lifted back into the air after the silence Lillian's sudden outburst had created, and I noticed she was walking towards the round front door. I assumed that she was simply in need of a resilient breath of fresh air; but just before she reached the brass doorknob, I saw how she scrunched up her face in such a way that told me she was in some sort of physical pain. Albeit it would have been barely noticeable to a stranger, I knew my sister well enough to realise she had excused herself from the table just in time to cover up her obvious jolts of pain, her hands lifting to massage at her brow and her jaw set.  
Even though her former outburst still hung in the air and I had to admit she had gone too far with the grumpy-out-of-bed-routine, not even mentioning the still stinging sarcastic comment she had thrown in my direction, I hadn't forgotten about what my sister and I had talked about yesterday. I knew I could be dense at times and I knew I allowed my mind to wander when important (dull) things were being said, but that didn't mean I did not _listen_. Especially whenever it came to the people I loved, I was an attentive auditor, even if it looked like I was lost in my own little world. As such, I comprehended my sister's symptoms; Lillian had just relived another memory. A splitting headache as a result.  
My body moved on its own, aching to help my older sibling, although I knew she would tell me to go away and leave her alone. I believed that it's sometimes better to talk with someone about serious and painful matters -like these memories and attached headaches clearly were- and I was prepared to face Lillian's hostile reaction. In the end she would open up to me; I believed that with all my heart.

I hurriedly excused myself to the remaining Dwarves at the kitchen table, pulled back my chair and set off to follow the same route as my sister, when I was stopped by a large hand enveloping itself around my wrist.

"Your sister doesn't like me very much, does she?" Kíli asked me, his expression sullen.

I barely registered his voice, distracted as I was by the palm of his hand that was loosely wrapped around my wrist, his heavily sun-kissed skin tone a perfect contrast to my own pale skin. I felt his warmth spreading over my entire body, igniting a spark inside of me and making my stomach twist and churn in a peculiar way, a sensation I had never felt before. The heat eventually reached my cheeks and I envisioned myself blushing a fine tint of scarlet.  
Yet, a sense of stubbornness took me in its grasp as I did not feel particularly talkative towards the dark-haired Dwarf. He had purposely ignored me when I had tried to greet him and his brother -in unison with the rest of the company- and he had not even so much as glanced in my general direction during the time we had ate our breakfast. I had apparently not been important enough to grace with a simple nod of the head or an easy sideways grin.  
But now he suddenly demanded my attention just so I could tell him if my sister liked him or not? Why would he care about that? Why the sudden interest in the person who had just yelled his head off for lacking in table manners?

"Oh, I wouldn't worry." I said without thinking twice about the words coming out of my mouth whilst I ignored the way his dark eyes were trying to lock onto my own blue orbs. "My sister doesn't like anyone at first. You just have to give her some time." I wiggled my wrist free from his grasp and gave him a frugal smile. "Excuse me."

I nodded once more at the other Dwarves around the table before I turned on my heel, my curls bouncing from side to side as I did so, and proceeded towards the door where Lillian had disappeared through only moments before. My features set into a determined expression as I wanted nothing more than to help my sister face her demons. Ignoring the painful sting of jealousy that rooted itself abruptly in the depths of my stomach.

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_**~ Will be continued ~ **_

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading! And -as always- if you like my story please leave me a review with your thoughts. Also take a look at **my poll on my Main Page** when you have the time! **;)**


	10. Part II - Of Headaches and Jests

**A/N:** I have no idea why this chapter took me so long to finish, but rejoice! It is finally here! I'm very sorry for the long wait, I just had a lot on my plate the last coupe of weeks and barely had time to write. I tried to keep all of your feedback in mind and put in a lot more conversation in this chapter. I'd really like to know what you think of my writing style now, so please leave me a comment with your thoughts. A huge thank you is in order for **_'ImmerWennEsDunkelWird'_** for helping me with this chapter and especially with the witty banter that ensues further on. Thank you so much, hun! *hugs* Okay, so, without further ado, enjoy~  
An enormous shoutout to all my reviewers from last time: _'Rubi Malone', 'LarienSurion', 'Siamsa', 'CookiewMonstuurrr', 'Shadow-whispers', _all the 'guests' and especially **_'Phantomessangel'_** because she is an amazing person who leaves the most wonderful and meaty reviews! This chapter is dedicated to you my dear, I hope you like it.

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**~ Part II ~**

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**Of Headaches and Jests**

* * *

Before I went outside to confront my sister, I hesitated for a moment in the doorway leading to Bilbo's front garden as a strange sensation overtook me and abruptly restricted my natural movements. I placed one of my hands against the cool and curving wall surrounding the round front door for support when a shiver found its way down my spine and I could feel myself become dizzy, the sensation resembling a ride on a carousel that was spinning out of control.  
I had no idea what was happening to me and the incertitude froze me to the spot. The palms of my hands were slick with sweat and I could practically feel my heart thumping loudly in my throat. I reflexively placed my free hand on my chest when my breathing became shallow, while the knuckles of the hand holding me upright turned completely white as I pressured the sinews in my fingers to keep me grounded when my legs betrayed me and started to quake.

I was about to let the frightened sensation that was now rapidly washing over me take control and call out for help when, just as quickly as it had started up, the dazed feeling disappeared in one sudden sigh and the world ceased its mad tumble.

Blinking slowly in confusion, I straightened myself and decided to trust my own feet in carrying my weight once more. _What was __**that**__?_ I mentally questioned myself, my heart beating erratically behind my ribcage.

A frown materialized itself on my brow, my hand still clutching my chest as I tried to soothe my heart in assuming its natural rhythm again. Several thoughts crossed my mind, trying to comprehend what had been the cause of this unknown -and quite disturbing- experience, when I slowly looked straight ahead -through the circular doorway and into the green fields before me- and realized that I was once again perfectly fine. No dizziness, no clammy hands, no frantic heartbeats,... Nothing.

"Huh," I hummed out loud and raised my eyebrows in wonder. _Strange... _I mused. _Oh well_, I shrugged any anxious thought that had tried to squeeze its way into my head off, _I'm probably still adapting to this new world._

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I was treating this bizarre sensation without the proper amount of caution, but I never really liked to ponder on negative thoughts when all it did was make you feel uneasy and miserable. I rather enjoyed to stay focussed on positive sentiments, and right now, the task at hand could use all the sun-filled notions it had to offer.

No longer allowing myself to think about anything else than the attempt at trying to help and comfort my sister, I lightly skipped off the steps and into Bilbo's front garden where Lillian was seated on the wooden bench, her back supported by one of the green cushions and one of her legs lifted up so she could put the ball of her foot on the edge of the narrow wooden support, one of her arms leaning onto her bent knee, while her other leg dangled over the grassy ground. She was trying to massage her temples with the hand hanging onto the supported arm while her other was balled up into a fist, her teeth clenched and her eyes screwed tightly shut. But it was only when I heard the silent groan escape her lips, that I was one hundred percent sure of the fact that she was in actual physical pain. And when something as trivial as pain was visible on my sister's face, you could bet on it that it wasn't an act, for Lillian _never_ showed weakness.

I fumbled with my fingers before I spoke, my voice small and unsure as the seriousness of the previous thought had had time to sink in."Are you okay?"

Lillian did not startle and did not lift her head in acknowledgement of my presence. "I'm fine," she answered through the fabric of her sleeve, covering her mouth.

"A- Are you sure?" I continued, my voice skipping a beat when I noticed the colour hadn't returned to my sister's face yet, her flaming hair a vibrant contrast against the ivory of her skin -illuminated even more by the bright morning sun- and the green of the grassy background. "Because you still look rather pale and y-"

"I said I'm fine!" She snapped and I involuntarily flinched at the sharp edge of her voice.

"But-"

Lillian sighed and seeing the crease on her forehead, I could ascertain that she regretted her outburst, but still seemed too wary to deal with my presence for the moment. "Audrey, please," she pleaded, before she tried to distract me by spinning the conversation in another direction. "Go back inside and finish your breakfast. It might be the last descent meal we'll have in a long time."

"I've eaten more than enough, I'm not hungry anymore," I said truthfully. "What about you?" I wondered. "You barely touched your eggs... Should I go and fetch you a plate?" I proposed, hoping Lillian would see the gesture as some sort of peace-offering. "You could eat it out here in peace and quiet?"

"I'm not hungry," Lillian grumbled in between gritted teeth. "Please, Audrey," She tried to brush me off again. "Go back inside. I-" Her breath hitched when she physically flinched, making it evidently plain for me to see she was still in pain. "I just- I... I need to be alone for a while." She still tried to act as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening to her, but the groan that unconsciously escaped her and the falter of her voice as she tried to complete her sentence convinced me otherwise.

I set my mouth in a stubborn, thin line and ignored her plea for solitude; instead I invited myself to sit down on the wooden seat beside her. "Lil..." I breathed out exasperatedly, trying to sound like I was scolding her unwillingness in accepting help when it presented itself so freely.

"Audrey," she warningly growled in return. "Don't."

But I would have none of it. "Talk to me, Lillian," I spoke in a plea of my own, probably sounding more timid than demanding, and decided to babble on when no response came. "I know you think I'm completely clueless when it comes to my surroundings, but trust me, I really am not." At that statement, Lillian couldn't keep her eyebrows from knitting together in mocked disbelief, but she stayed quiet, which was enough of an opening for me to start discussing the current problem at hand. "I saw you holding your head... I- I saw you flinch... Did- Did you have another... headache?"

Lillian sighed deeply, her face softening considerably as she realised I wasn't going to go anywhere and effectively wanted nothing more than to help my older sibling in any way that I could. "No. I- Well, yes," she admitted. "But it was... nothing important."

I rolled my eyes at her stubborn perseverance. "It looked painful enough to be a little important, at the very least."

My attempt at a light-hearted pleasantry did not bode well as Lillian looked at me with such a forlorn expression that it almost seemed like she was on the verge of tears.; an observation that made my own stomach clench in nervousness, seeing as I couldn't remember a single memory where Lillian had cried in front of me. An act she would undoubtedly see as a display of weakness. Literally _nothing_ came to mind.

"Do you think this is funny?" She still managed to scoff, but her voice was small and wavering.

"Of course not! I'm only trying to help you, Lil!" I exclaimed quickly, afraid that she would shut me out once more because of the nonexistence that was my subtlety. "Please, just talk to me," I continued more calmly, intent on getting my sister to open up and accept my help to solve the question of whatever it was that ailed her. "We can work this out together."

Lillian tilted her head sideways so she could look me in the eyes, a stubborn frown still present on her brow. "Audrey, I don't need anyone's help," she insisted with a sense of pride that made her straighten up instinctively. "I'm okay, _really_," she stressed.

If my sister thought the light-hearted smile that she had forced onto her lips was going to convince me of the fact that she felt perfectly fine, than she had another thing coming. I was thoroughly aware of my own naivety; knowing full well that I would have most definitely believed her at this point in our conversation, if I had not experienced a little _inconsistency_ of my own just a few minutes ago.  
Once more since I had woken up here in this new world, I felt that same gut-clenching sensation which had made me to believe that Bilbo was supposed to be the Dwarves' burglar _and_ was supposed to accompany them on their quest. A feeling that was vividly turning into a certainty with every passing hour. And somewhere in the back of my mind another light had flared to life; a spark making me realize that my own spinning-wheel-sensation from before and my sister's painful headaches were somehow connected.

'Click' said the piece of the puzzle.

I frowned deeply as I tried to digest my own thoughts, strengthening myself to refute Lillian's words. "I don't believe you," I stated without hesitation and hastily continued as I saw my sister getting ready to contradict me. "You are _not_ okay, Lillian. You know why I know this? Because sometimes when **I** say _"I'm okay"_, I always wish someone would just look me in the eyes, see how much I'm screaming for help inside, hug me tight and say, _"I know you're not"_. Why? Because that's what I actually need at that moment, even if I don't realise it myself. And that's the way it is with most people." I took a deep, lung-filling breath when I saw Lillian was still looking at me with sceptical eyes; and I tried to find words that would penetrate that stubborn skull of hers. "That's also the case for the strongest and most independent ones," I said and I still added, "There is no shame in accepting help. It doesn't make you seem weak, it makes you acceptant and appreciative of others around you."

To my surprise, a soft chuckle escaped the barrier of my sister's lips and she directed her stare back towards the rolling landscape in front of her, a faraway look in her eyes; envisioning something only she could see, belonging to the restrictions of the past. Her hazel gaze was fixed on the horizon, shining brightly as they reflected the rays of the golden sun, and the corners of her lips were pulled upward showing the faintest of smiles, but a smile nonetheless.

Seeing my sister's contented expression made me momentarily lose the austere thoughts that were swimming around in my head and made my own lips twitch, mimicking her smile. "What?" I asked her with a laugh.

Lillian just shook her head and shifted her eyes downward, staring at the yellow daffodils and blue forget-me-nots alongside the neatly maintained earthen pathway running through Bilbo's front garden. "Nothing," she smirked.

"Oh, come on Lil. Tell me!" I exclaimed with a broad toothy grin, my eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Lillian chuckled at my eagerness and shook her head again in response. "You just..." She paused, and looked back in my general direction, her eyes locking onto mine and shining with mirth. "You really are something, you know that?"

I blushed at her words of praise, her compliment warming both my heart and my cheeks simultaneously. Lillian reacted to my flushed face with a lovely, wide smile and at that moment I could not find the words to respond, my eyes falling downward onto the folded hands in my lap. My sister had always been that one person I had looked up to, that one person I had always strived to become; but the way her face lit up when she smiled and the way her eyes glowed golden in the sun made me once again realise why I had never been successful in becoming just like her.  
Because she always was, and always would be, so much better than me.

I had no idea why something as innocent as a smile made me think back of the past; sombre and grey. Memories came flooding back to me, summarizing the fact that -all my life- I had felt some sort of contained envy towards my sister. I kept my eyes fixed onto the grass beneath my feet and furrowed my brow as that ugly feeling of jealousy came slithering back into my heart, trying not to think off the scene at the breakfast table which had initiated those green sentiments in the first place. But I still saw those thick fingers wrapping itself around my wrist and I still heard the desperate question that had belonged to the owner of that hand: _"Your sister doesn't like me very much, does she?"  
_I tried to shake the insecure feelings away as I did not feel very proud of these negative thoughts bouncing around in my brain and reprimanded myself that Lillian had never cared for anyone's approval, and she had never cared for the affections of others; the Dwarves' probably being no exception._  
_

It wasn't her fault that everyone looked right passed me whenever she was in the room. It wasn't her fault that she had been gifted with angelic features and graceful limbs. It wasn't her fault that she was brilliant in everything that she did. And it wasn't her fault that she got complimented for all of her virtues, as they were many and -undoubtedly- worthy of praise.

But that did not mean it didn't hurt.

I heaved a sigh as I told myself I should just feel happy for the appreciation Lillian held for me and for the fact that she cared for me and loved me unconditionally. So I willed my mind to focus back on the present and felt my chest become less constricted as I simply tried to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled between us.

After a few minutes, however, Lillian broke said silence with another groan, and my personal reverie completely evaporated into thin air at her words. "I acted totally inappropriate in there, didn't I?" She asked as I clearly saw the embarrassment jade her face.

I couldn't help but chuckle when she nearly physically face-palmed herself at her momentary loss of control, my own pessimistic thoughts disappearing in a single sound of laughter. "Well..." I breathed out long and slow as the incident played itself over and over again in my head; each repetition making it more and more hilarious.

"I should probably apologize, shouldn't I?" Lillian made a face at the thought of apologizing to _anyone_, let alone someone as immature as Kíli.

"Probably," I agreed, as I did feel all of the Dwarves deserved an apology and maybe even a pat on the back for living through Lillian's notorious morning-temper.

The volume of Lillian's voice increased when her own thoughts displaced themselves back to the realistic corner of her mind, her words sounding heavy in the air. "I just felt so- so confused and angry all of a sudden!" She exclaimed, and the frustration she undoubtedly felt was plainly visible on her face. "This situation we're in... it's just... It's so..." She faltered slightly before she shook her head from side to side, cleaning her mind from the doubts that addled her rational thinking-process and started to massage her temples, her eyes screwed tightly shut in a determined expression to find a solution to this 'situation'. "There has to be some logical explanation for this... There just has to be."

I looked at her hunched-over form with a mildly worried expression. "Lil, you know just as well as I do that there is _nothing_ logical about this," I said and I felt the doleful feeling I had also felt this morning -of Lillian's refusal in simply accepting our apparition in this fantastical world- come back to me.

Lillian abruptly opened her eyes, her nose scrunched up and her brows furrowed in an expression that I knew well enough from all the years I had seen that look cross my sister's face; she was going to figure things out. "Who says we're not having the same crazy dream?" She proposed. "Or maybe..." She pondered out loud. "Maybe it's some kind of prank..."

My own expression screamed 'completely confused' at that. "How d'you figure?" I asked wonderingly.

"This could be some sort of hidden camera show. You know, like that Jim Carrey movie, but in a fantasy-setting," Lillian explained to me with such a wild look in her eyes that I thought she was going insane. "And all those hairy guys in there are actors who get paid to play with our minds."

I immediately saw the flaws in her thought-process and couldn't help myself from voicing them out. "Then how do you explain our new appearances? Or the fact that -if we kept our normal height- Gandalf still looks 12 feet tall? Or the fact that we lost the major part of our memory?" I listed up the obvious inconsistencies in my sister's observation.

Lillian opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came out when she realized I had made some valid points. "Shite," she mumbled under her breath and she furrowed her brow once more, trying to come up with another explanation. "Perhaps..." She breathed and her eyes lit up as she voiced a proposition that seemingly sounded more suitable and believable in her own head. "Perhaps we're both in a coma and... because we're sisters and we share the same blood, our minds are somehow connected," she mused and her expression became triumphant. "That could be it!" She exclaimed and started to ramble on about it, the only words I could still distinguish being; "I think I read something about that in the Times..."

"But..." I hesitated. "How do you explain your headache than? I'm not sure but... shouldn't it be impossible to feel pain when you're in a coma?"

Lillian's excited and elaborate babble died down at my words and she stayed utterly silent while her brain started to process what I had just suggested. She scowled at her toes when my survey had once again pointed out a flaw in her thought-process -even though I had to admit it could still be true- and I could see she was angry at herself for not being able to solve this arduous riddle.

I hated seeing my sister like this, mentally beating herself up because she couldn't find a single clue that was able to clarify whether or not our appearance in this world was something that could be graced with an answer. I cleared my throat, "Speaking of which," I started and hoped my inquiry would distract Lillian enough to put a stop to her own mental punishment. "Won't you tell me what... caused your headache? What memory did you see?"

My voice ended in an almost-whisper, afraid of the fact that my sister would much rather decide to shut me out again, instead of confiding in me. As Lillian stayed silent for a very long time, the seconds dragging into minutes, I was starting to get really worried and nervous, hoping that this just meant she hadn't heard me correctly.

"Lil?" I barely stopped myself from whimpering her name.

Lillian did not turn to look at me, preferring to keep her eyes locked onto her toes, but at last she spoke. "... I remembered our parents."

It was like my heart had stopped beating its steady rhythm. The strain that had unconsciously seeped into my sister's voice percolating my ears like a drum. "Oh," was the only -pathetic- sound that passed the barrier of my vocal cords in response.

"You never lost the memory of our mother and father, didn't you?" She guessed, and maybe I had heard wrong, but it sounded like an accusation. Like I should have known she had forgotten all about them and I should have started listing up everything I still remembered from the moment I had flung myself in her arms.

I decided not to argue with my sister on the matter, thinking that I probably should have done something of the sort. Maybe I was partly the blame...

My voice still hadn't fully returned which made me only capable of a weak stutter. "No. I- I thought... I- I just... I didn't know you-"

"Had forgotten about them?" Lillian supplemented.

"Well... yes."

Lillian simply nodded at that. "Tell me, Audrey... How much do you remember of our parents?"

"Uhm... well, let me see..." I stalled as her question caught me off guard, forcing my mind to bring up all the memories I still had of our mother and father. "You looked exactly like mum, but your personality was more similar to that of dad," I began to speak when lights started to flicker to life in every little corner of my head, giving me enough clarity to locate the pieces of the puzzle that I required. "And with me it was the exact opposite; I looked like dad and had our mum's character," I continued. "Mum was lovely. She always hummed or sang and baked wonderful cakes and helped me with my homework. Oh! And she could sow like the best! She always made me handmade skirts and cardigans." The memory made me smile broadly in melancholy as our mother's bright and beautiful face -so similar to Lillian's- hovered in front of my mind. "Dad was a silent man. I don't think I ever really laughed or played with him. I remember he was very proud and strict, and wanted nothing but the best from me. So I worked very hard in school and... I think he was mostly always happy with the results I brought home."

The image of my father's face was harder to see, but it still was clear enough for me to believe the explanation I had just given Lillian. Seeing all those memories of my parents floating in front of my eyelids made my heart ache painfully for home for the first time since I had found myself here, in Middle Earth. A sensation of pure melancholy took my heart in its clutches and I could feel a familiar sting in my eyes, the corners already watering in sadness. Though mixed with the longing, there was also another feeling stirring uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach when I tried to focus on keeping the translucent faces of our parents vivid. But I couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, so the sensation quit my mind as soon as I stopped my inner slideshow.

"So, yeah... I think that about sums it all up?" I sounded hoarse as I tried to stop the unshed tears from spilling, and swallowed hard in order to push my mind back to a more positive light.

"I see," Lillian hummed and then paused to think, her hazel eyes staring back into my own with such intensity that it looked like she was trying to peer into my soul. "Tell me, in all those memories you just recited... Where am I?"

I was completely taken aback by her question and I imagined I was a comical sight; my eyebrows raised until they disappeared into my curly hairline and my mouth hanging open slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked, trying to get a better grip on what she wanted me to say to that.

Lillian did not scoff at my sluggish brain and just took a deep breath, explaining herself more thoroughly. "I mean that the only time you mentioned me was when you said I had the physical appearance of our mother and the personality of our father," she elaborated. "But when you started listing up their character, you only reflected those memories on yourself," she said as she absentmindedly gestured in my general direction and it started to dawn on me what she was trying to ask, but when she finally formulated her question, the words still hung heavy in the air. "Where was I in all of that?"

Up to that moment I hadn't stopped to think at the possibility that I had lost more important memories than I cared to imagine; so speechless and astonished was I when I couldn't find any recollection in my head that could explain my sister's inquiry. I started to stutter when I realized that all of my childhood memories that concerned my parents were completely void of my own sister. "I... I don't know..."

"You don't know or you don't remember?" Lillian stressed, still trying to get me to remember something. _Anything._

But as much as I wanted to, I couldn't answer her with a unilateral 'yes' or 'no'. That fact freaked me out even more and I started to move my legs to and fro in agitation. My sister was still waiting patiently for my reply, so I simply uttered, "I- I'm not... sure."

Lillian simply nodded at that and pursed her lips in thought, an expression floating over her face that I couldn't quite make out and made me feel somewhat uneasy to see. "Okay," she breathed and stayed quiet after that, almost making me think that she was once again lost in her own thoughts and had totally forgotten I was still sitting next to her.

I was about to start up the conversation again, when Lillian suddenly clapped her hands together, startling me so that I almost bit down on my own tongue. "Well! No use in dillydallying. I'm sure the Dwarves have already gobbled up everything edible that they could get their hands on, so we're probably going to move out in a bit. Better check our packs one final time before we leave," she exclaimed all in one breath and proceeded to stand back on her feet and stretch her back.

"B- But..." I stammered, baffled at the change in the air and in my sister's mood. Both off them lightning up exceedingly with this turn of events. "What about your memory? "

Lillian had an unreadable expression on her face when she tried to sooth my worries away. "It was not as detailed as your description," she said. "But as I said before: I just remembered our parents. That's it. Nothing to worry yourself about."

Don't get me wrong, I was happy to see my sister so easily cured of what was obviously ailing her and what was meddling with her rational thoughts, but the offhand change of attitude had me doubting her sincerity. "But... just now you nodded your head and had that pondering look upon your face, like you had just realised something," I said.

I eyed Lillian curiously when she spoke. "No, I didn't," she assured me, and added with a sarcastic undertone when she found my incredulous expression still plastered on my face. "But rest assured, if I have an actual life-changing epiphany, you'll be the first to know about it."

"Lil..." I still tried to fish for something she was obviously not telling me.

"I'm serious!" Lillian exclaimed with a huff. "Come on, Audrey, don't read too much into this. I'm telling you the honest truth when I say I have no more advanced thoughts about us being here and about those tattered shreds of memories that keep flooding our brains than you do." She sounded so mature and sure of herself that it had me doubting if there really was anything to worry about anymore at all. "You believe me, don't you?" She hastily inquired as I didn't immediately respond.

I gave her one more doubtful look before I couldn't help the smile from gracing my features, happy that my sister seemed genuinely satisfied and had somehow stopped to think of what had tormented her just moments before. "Yes," I said with a firm nod and a beaming laugh.

"Good." Lillian copied my smile and waved me along back towards the front door of the Hobbit Hole. "Now come," she said. "Let's pack up and start this crazy adventure."

When we came back inside Bilbo's home, the Dwarves were finishing up on getting packed and ready to travel. My sister and myself hastily clasped the forest-green cloaks around our necks and secured the leather rug-sacks on our backs. Fully clothed and deemed fit to accompany the Dwarves, Lillian stepped forward and apologized profoundly to the gathered group for the lack of manners she had shown at breakfast. I stood in one of the curved corners of the hallway, looking at my sister's profile in awe. She managed to sound genuinely sincere when she excused her poor manners, while she kept her posture upright and graceful and her words eloquent and learned; in so she still eradiated control over the situation and was able to maintain her independent nature. She apologized with such charm and wit that not one single Dwarf questioned her sincerity and they all immediately forgave her little burst of temper; Kíli the first one to do so.

I couldn't find any other way to say it; but Lillian had once again succeeded in wrapping every single one of these Dwarves around her little finger. Just like she had done when she had challenged Thorin Oakenshield for the first time.

Speaking of which, Fíli then told the company he had gotten orders from said brooding Dwarf to lead their group on foot to Bywater where their leader, Dwalin and Gandalf were going to wait on them with ponies and supplies.  
I spend the walk to our designed destination chattering amiable with all of the Dwarves I still had the pleasure to get to know and tried my hardest to remember all of their names. Lillian walked along close to me but stayed silent for the entire thirty minute-trip; though I was sure that she was listening in on every word that was being said and I knew my sister had probably memorized every single one of the Dwarves' names already and would be able to address them all personally when she had the desire to.

I had been having a conversation about the contract that the Dwarves had left in Bilbo's kitchen -in case the Hobbit would still change his mind (which I had no doubt he would) and wanted to sign the yellow scroll of parchment still, to become an official member of the company- with Balin, who turned out to be the scholar and trusted advisor of the lot; when we stopped in front of a grass-covered Hobbit Hole where we found Thorin, Dwalin and the gray wizard. The Hobbit Hole turned out to be an inn, and the inn was called "The Green Dragon", and once again a little tingle of recognition passed my mind when I saw the sign, though I couldn't exactly pinpoint the reason why the name sounded familiar and hoped it would come back to me at some point.

There were sixteen ponies and one horse tied up along the fence of the -practically empty, as it was still very early in the morning- Hobbit Inn and the company started to load their mounts with all kinds of baggages, packages, parcels, and paraphernalia; when agitated voices rose in the air and everyone turned to see Thorin and Lillian standing face to face, on the brink of a heated discussion.

"What are you exactly implying?" Lillian asked as she stared at Thorin sternly, her whole posture screaming indignation.

I shuffled closer to my sister at the exact moment when the Dwarf-leader huffed and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I shall repeat this no more. You and your sister will be sharing a pony with my nephews to ensure the speed of our journey," he ordered. "We cannot and will not risk any further inconveniences caused by poor riding skills."

I winced at his cynical remark as I saw my sister's eyes narrow dangerously, her jaw set in stubborn vexation. Our leader could not possibly fathom yet what that look meant and what consequences his solemn words carried along. For Lillian's face was set in an expression of cunning aggression and whenever she wore that shrewd mask, she was determined on engaging in an argument that would preferably -and most likely- end in her victory.

"Oh," Lillian started, low and dangerous. "Is that so? You mean to state, kind leader, that you do not deem us capable?" She pulled herself to her full height and cocked a pedantic eyebrow, never breaking Thorin's gaze. "Your distrust of our competence almost renders me speechless. I at least demand you give me and my dear sister a chance at proving our worth." Her lips curved into a frugal smile. "Will you not allow us even such an opportunity?"

I fleetingly wondered how Lillian could pull it off, sounding so intelligent, grown-up and even _regal_ when talking to these Dwarves, and most especially to Thorin. A sensation of pride towards my sister filled my heart with warmth and I couldn't fight the small smile that curled itself on my lips as I came to stand about a foot diagonally behind her.

Thorin growled lowly at Lillian's challenging inquiry, fully aware of how she had him cornered. To hold the respect he had as leader of this expedition and to maintain the bonds of trust he had developed between his fellowship, he had to show he was willing to extend the same amount of respect and trust. "Very well," he conceded with clear displeasure. "This day, you may ride on a pony. A test," he continued with an arrogant tilt of the head and a mocking stare, "to see how much that will impede our journey."

Kíli had the audacity to snicker and, for the first time that day, he turned to face me. "Such a shame, lady Audrey," he added playfully. "I would've rather liked to spend the voyage engaging in good conversation."

His playful jest made my cheeks burn and his crooked smirk made my stomach flutter in that same unfamiliar way as it had this morning, when he had taken a hold of my wrist. On the other hand, his sudden attention and added proximity made me somewhat nervous as well, and I wasn't sure anymore if I liked the way his smouldering stare was trying to burn a hole in my soul.

"Now, my lady," Fíli interrupted the stalemate that had arisen between Lillian and Thorin, and addressed my sister with a sly smile. "Would you comply with my uncle's polite request to sit atop my noble steed with me if you and your lovely sister were to fail this test? Or would you still so bravely demand a pony for yourself?"

I could practically see Lillian biting her tongue as she tried to contain her temper. "Nothing has been proven yet, master Fíli," she answered, cautiously.

"Very true, but the possibility exists," he taunted lightly. "Although I do not for one foolish moment doubt your capabilities, we must take in account all the outcomes. And I would have no qualms in sharing necessary and vital items with an honourable maiden such as yourself."

"Nor would I!" Kíli announced and for a reason unknown to me, he sent a meaningful glance my way. "It would be an honour and a blessing to take upon your protection," he said as he closed the distance between us and placed a warm hand on my shoulder; the contact making my already flushed face tinge a deep scarlet.

I could sense that Lillian was now barely managing the urge to scream. "We thank you for your concern, but we haven't had our chance yet," she grounded out as she kept a close eye on the young, dark-haired Dwarf next to me.

"And you may," Thorin spoke up, posture straight and shoulders squared. "My nephews are merely pointing out the other options. Making vows they will not take lightly." There was a hint of amusement in his voice and it was mirrored in the faces of the entire company scattered around us.

I felt the urge to say something, hoping it would distract me from Kíli's close proximity. "Oh dear, you shouldn't bother yourselves,..." was the only thing I was able to silently mumble.

Fíli interrupted me with a positively charming smile. "A privilege. An honour, my lady."

Kíli nodded in enthusiasm. "Surely it could not be anything else."

While I was being smothered by the two brothers, Thorin threw Lillian a look of superiority. "We will saddle two of the ponies reserved for carrying our supplies. For our _revered_ female companions."

Lillian clenched her fists, "Your kindness knows no boundaries, Thorin Oakenshield."

Kíli then proceeded to lean in even closer. "Ah, how wrong it is to wish you will not succeed just to not lose your company," he whispered confidentially to the side of my face as his warm breath ghosted against the shell of my ear.

Fíli made the whole clammed-up sensation that I was now distinctly feeling even worse by wrapping an arm around my shoulder, "Your absolutely _wonderful_ company, he means," the blonde Dwarf clarified.

"That will be quite enough," Lillian exclaimed loudly as she came over to steer me away from the royal menaces. "You must understand, masters Dwarf, we need to get accustomed to our ponies and adjust our luggage," she offered as a poor excuse, but she looked like she couldn't care less about the credibility of her words. "Come Audrey, dear. Our leader must be getting impatient by now." She mumbled under her breath, "Self-righteous arse."

I let go of the breath I had not realised I was holding, when there was once again some welcomed breathing-space between the brothers and myself. Followed by the humour-filled eyes of the Dwarves, Lillian helped me in ascending a pony before she climbed up in front of me. Her attempt at flinging her leg over the little horse -called Daisy- being much more graceful than my own, of course. When asked about the other pony, who was called Myrtle, and had been saddled for one of us as well, we both claimed that the little mount was for Bilbo as I told everyone who wanted to hear it that I was certain their burglar was still going to show up. My conviction of the matter had some of the Dwarves muttering amongst themselves and I could swear one of them -the Dwarf with the star-hairdo who was called Nori, I thought- was making some sort of list with one of Balin's pens he had borrowed.  
As I finished trying to explain to Bombur why I was so convinced of Bilbo's expected arrival -while trying my hardest not to reveal anything that could unravel the white lie Lillian had told them- Fíli and Kíli joined the throng of mumbling Dwarves and I could have sworn the blonde-haired brother gave me a wink and the dark-haired brother gave me a conspiratorial grin when they unlinked themselves for the group and ascended their own ponies.

I had no idea what that was about though, and as they had had great pleasure in teasing me before, I just assumed they were still at it. Which could have been the case as it seemed like Fíli couldn't contain himself any longer and desperately wanted to continue the little banter from earlier.

"Your spirit is commendable, lady Lillian," he addressed my sister once more and steered his pony closer to ours. "But, tell me, with no man to hold on to, how do you propose to stay on the horse?"

I could feel Lillian tense up in front of me, which I deemed was a clear indicator that she had no desire in prolonging this teasing game any longer. She breathed out slowly to compose herself, before leading our pony closer to Fíli's, a smirk that could compete with that of a she-devil on her lips and her voice utterly sinful. "As you do, Master Dwarf..." She whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. "With my thighs."

Lillian's sly remark was met with the snickers of some of our fellowship and Fíli's ears -along with Kíli's and Ori's, as they stood closest to us- turned a nice, visible shade of cherry-red at the ambiguous meaning of that sentence. Even my own ears started to burn and probably looked just as red when I finally realized what the older Dwarves were all snickering about. A timid, "Oh," escaping me in unison.  
Though I was seated behind her and could only see her back, I had no trouble trying to imagine what my sister's face looked like; a playful smirk and an expression of pure victory gracing her features. And she had earned that pleased sensation in my opinion; most defenitely.

As we made our way along the earthen pathways towards the borders of the Shire, I noticed how peacefully quiet everyone was and how Fíli and Kíli, who rode right behind us, did not even so much as mutter something under their breath. _Well, that shut them up quite effectively_, I thought to myself as I wrapped my arms a little firmer around Lillian's waist.

"Wait!" A voice erupted from behind us suddenly. "_Wait!_"

One of the ginger-haired Dwarves in front of us -Gloín, I thought he was called- pulled on the reins of his pony. "Whoa, hold on," he called out to the company to make them come to a halt.

"Bilbo!" I exclaimed happily when I saw the panting Hobbit run towards our little queue of ponies.

He skidded to a halt alongside Balin's snow-white mount. "I signed it," he said out of breath, but smiling proudly while he waved the long yellow parchment in the air with a sense of triumph.

Balin arched an eyebrow and held out his hand to take the record, subsequently proceeding in closely examining the Hobbit's signature with some sort of monocle. "Everything appears to be in order," he declared and folded the contract back into a square. "Welcome, master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

The other Dwarves chuckled and cheered, and both me and my sister beamed happily down at our lovely host. "Glad you could join us, Bilbo," Lillian said with mirth in her eyes and I nodded enthusiastically at her greeting.

"Give him a pony," Thorin grumbled from the front and kicked his own mount back into a trot.

Bilbo's head snapped up and his eyes turned wide like saucers. "No, no, no. That won't be necessary," he gulped and I saw Fíli and Kíli share a grin behind him. "I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I've even been as far as Frogmorton once- ack!"

The hobbit's legs dangled in midair for a moment before Fíli and Kíli uncomfortably dropped him in the saddle of Myrtle, who plodded along with a great cooking-pot and a considerable amount of provisions already strapped to her. Poor Bilbo grimaced as he tried to keep his back straight, his fists clenched around the reins, dangling uselessly before his chest.

"Come on Nori, pay up. Go on," Oín prodded his fellow-Dwarf gleefully.

"One more," Kíli exclaimed with a laugh, and a sack filled with gold coins was tossed over our heads and in Kíli's outstretched hand.

I was about to question their actions, when Bilbo -who rode alongside Gandalf- spoke up, "What's that about?"

The wandering wizard chuckled. "Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up," he explained. "Most of them bet that you wouldn't."

The small gathering of Dwarves in front of the Hobbit Inn from before, their heads bend together and their rumbling whispers vibrating through the air now started to make perfect sense to me. When Fíli's pony suddenly trotted forward to flank our left and Kíli's pony did the same to our right, and they both looked at me with smiles in their eyes and a pouch of money each in their hands, I understood why they had winked and grinned at me before. They had believed me when I had declared Bilbo was still going to come, and somehow, it made me feel warm and appreciated inside.

"What did you think?" Bilbo's voice piped up as he was still conversing with Gandalf.

The wizard hummed lowly before another pouch flew through the air and he caught it with remarkable ease. "My dear fellow," he chuckled, "I never doubted you for a second."

Bilbo met my eyes and I smiled along with him, as I mouthed, _me neither_, and the little Hobbit beamed brightly. Just then, I saw his nose scrunch up and his face contort funnily as he sneezed seconds after. "All this horse hair," he grumbled. "Having a reaction."

He started to search around in his pockets when he yelled out, "Wait, wait! Stop!" The caravan of ponies halted once more at the Hobbit's sudden outburst. "We have to turn around," he stated.

Gandalf arched an eyebrow. "What on earth is the matter?"

"I forgot my handkerchief," Bilbo explained and I had to hold in my laughter as I saw the bulky-looking Dwarf, Dwalin, roll his eyes in clear vexation.

Bofur smiled wickedly and tore a piece from his beige tunic. "Here, use this," he offered as he threw the cloth towards Bilbo.

The Hobbit caught it and looked at the filthy piece of fabric with barely hidden disgust written all over his face, and he scrunched up his nose when he tried an experimental sniff; nearly gagging at the smell of Dwarf-sweat that had thoroughly penetrated the cotton.

Thorin decided he had had enough delays for the day and clicked his tongue to make his mount jump back into action. "Move on," he ordered loudly and everyone obeyed; even Lillian, who had looked as if she would've liked nothing more than to chide Bofur for pulling a -to her- tasteless prank like that.

"You'll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end," Gandalf said sternly and continued in a more gentle tone when he glanced sideways to see Bilbo's crestfallen expression. "You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire. But home is now behind you," his deep and soothing voice made shivers of excitement run up my spine. "The world is ahead."

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_**~ Will be continued ~**_

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading! If you haven't seen it already, then take a look at my **DeviantArt** account (you can find a link to it on my main page here) and see all the wonderful art people have already made for this story! And don't forget to take a look at **the poll on my Main Page** when you have the time! **;)**


	11. Part III - Home Is Behind

**A/N:** Ok, phew! Here's the new chapter and I sincerely hope you will all enjoy it. There's a lot of sheer text in this chapter where I try to dig into every single Dwarf of the company. I searched the web and combined it with my own interpretations of the Dwarves, and put a lot of thought in it. So, I hope you will appreciate last few weeks _life_ just suddenly happened and I barely had any time to sit down at my desk and write. I mean, when I started this story I had all the time in the world. But since I'm working a full-time job now, I have s little time to myself! Luckily I love my job, otherwise I would be very annoyed about the absurd lack of me-time I have you to all the reviewers from last chapter: _'Shadow-whispers'_ , _'phantomessangel'_ , _'LarienSurion'_ , _'Immer wenn es dunkel wird'_ , _'Siamsa'_ , _'Chris'_ , _'ArtLover87'_ and all the 'guests'! You guys are the best and the reason why I keep writting!

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**~ Part III ~**

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**Home Is Behind**

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Lillian turned out to be a rather skilled equestrian, even though she admitted to me later in the day that she had no recollection whatsoever of herself ever riding a horse —or pony, in this case— before. Her ability to prove Thorin wrong did not surprise me at all though, and I felt genuinely comfortable on our shared mount, my hands woven together around my sister's waist and my eyes roaming the landscape around us in awe.

With every passing day, the scenery started to change in subtle ways. The rolling horizon of the Shire ended with a patchwork of greens and yellows that counted thick crops of golden stems and orchards groaning under the weight of their fruit_._ ("Farmer Maggot's crops look beautiful this year," Bilbo had said, and once again a light of recognition had illuminated the darker parts of my brain at his mention of the owner's name; making ghost-images float along behind my eyelids of those same crops with fewer straws and lesser clarity, but I still couldn't quite place the memories.) After that, the panorama had been replaced by grander hills, thicker trees, and a wilder, less cultivated landscape. Lillian confided in me one day that she found the untamed landscape before her even more beautiful than the well-maintained green hills of the Shire; but when she asked me what I preferred, I spent almost a whole hour trying to explain to her why I couldn't choose. It was no surprise than, that at the end of the day, I still hadn't decided. The simple grandeur of this world and all it's different environments and people had me in such wonder that I simply could not pick only one part of it; the whole of Middle Earth was breathtaking to me.

On the subject of the people of Middle Earth: I was thrilled that I came to learn so much more about the Dwarves of our company in the days that followed. Not just how they differentiated from each other physically —as they were all incredibly distinctive in their form of dress and the adornments of their hair and beards— but also how each and every one of them differed so much in personality as well.

The first Dwarf who was open-minded enough to see Bilbo, Lillian and myself as accepted members of the company was Bofur. He was an unremittingly great-hearted Dwarf; cheerful and good-humoured, but also loyal and sturdy. On one of the long nights when we had made camp, he had told me he spontaneously joined the quest out of his sense for adventure, to find his fortune and partially because the beer was free. I had assumed that the last part was an obvious joke, but he had never looked more serious. His unnatural expression made me burst out in a fit of giggles and his own eyes started to crinkle in the corners with the effort of keeping up his facade while I was practically choking on my own laughter; but he succumbed to his own merriment barely seconds after. Ever since that night I had noticed how endearing and vivacious he was, above being in possession of an ever-present (contagious) good mood and the ability to draw others into the fun with his warmth and great sense of humour. But apart from that, he turned out to be very observant in noticing other people's emotional state as well, and he had his own ways of responding in —what could be considered— an appropriate supportive way. When the situation required it, he could put his fun-loving traits to the side and show his practicality and his down to earth-nature. This versatility meant that his friends often looked at him in both times of trouble and times of mirth as he was always generous with his time and emotions, and an eternal optimist at that. In short, he was that one person in a group who had the talent of keeping up morale, even in the darkest of times.

His cousin Bifur was limited to communicating in grunts and gestures due to the rusting remains of an Orc-axe embedded in his head, and -because of that injury- he occasionally became a bit feisty or had the tendency of just throwing himself into a dangerous situation. (Like that one night when he had made a wild dash after a rabbit who had stolen his batch of salad, chasing it until the fury little animal had disappeared quickly in its hole. Unfortunately for Bifur, that hole was positioned right underneath a sturdy tree, and -well, you can guess what happened- in his limited focus the Dwarf had smashed right into the tree-trunk. Knocking him out effortlessly for a good few minutes.) The grunts and gestures —I later learned— were actually fragments of _Khuzdul_, the secret and ancient language of the Dwarves; and _Iglishmek_, a Dwarven sign language. He also always looked like he was deeply absorbed in thought, seemingly oblivious of what was occurring in his immediate surroundings; and as a result of living with an axe in his head, Bifur sometimes had odd ideas. Like the afternoon on the seventh day of our voyage; we had stopped for lunch and to my confusion, I saw him trying to roast a silver-beet over the campfire.

Bombur was the chief cook of the company and brother to Bofur. From the very beginning it was clear to me that he put great importance in fulfilling his duties, especially when they involved taking care of others and seeing to it that everyone had enough to eat. Apart from the fact that his own girth and appetite brought much merriment to the company, he himself was mostly orientated towards his family —Bofur and Bifur— which is why he always seemed very quiet and shy towards outsiders, myself included. However, despite being of few words, Bombur was the one Dwarf in the entire company who would not hesitate to moan and complain when he had been without food for too long.

The second Dwarf who made us feel welcomed was Balin, the oldest and the wisest of the company. I gathered from the way he told stories from his life in the Blue Mountains —which he loved to tell, and I loved to hear them— that he was much revered amongst Dwarvedom nobility for his sage advice and skill with words. He had —and still has— the ability to discern and see through various problems as he was highly tuned in to his environment and observant of the feelings, perceptions and needs of others. He was a conscientious helper, above finding it of great importance to ensure a sense of harmony and cooperation within his companions. These character traits made me understand why Thorin placed so much faith in Balin's advice; he was extremely capable and was also his oldest friend and a distant relative. Overhearing the conversations between the white-haired Dwarf and the leader of our company in Bilbo's home, I could distinguish that despite Balin's reservations with regards to the quest, he remained resolute and loyal.  
I saw Balin as the glue who held the group together. He was highly co-operative, succeeding in ensuring the smooth running of group activities and responsible for making sure social functions were successful. He was the one who dealt out tasks to everyone, as he found routine and orderly structure helpful in making everything flow smoothly and productively.

His brother Dwalin was a fearsome warrior who kept most of the other dwarves at arm's length through sheer intimidation. He scared me a little as well, if I had to be honest; with his broad frame, menacing features and the tattoos imprinted on his bare scalp and brawny forearms, he was a fearsome specimen to behold. He was second in command in the company and a close friend to its leader, Thorin Oakenshield. He had strong observation skills and had achieved mastery in all kinds of weapons; but his favoured twin battle-axes, strapped in a cross onto his back, were his personal first choice in any battle. He even named them Grasper and Keeper; Uhklat and Umraz in Khuzdul. He was an exceedingly independent individual which is why I perceived him as detached at first, as he more willingly applied logic to mechanics, rather than the messy emotions of other people. But really, I think he just enjoyed having his personal space and had a need to distance himself from people, which is the reason why it made him come over as critical and guarded to those who didn't have his trust. There was no doubt in my mind that Dwalin would follow no one but those who had earned his respect. In so, he was fiercely loyal to Thorin and he would willingly lay down his life for him.

The first obvious fact I gathered about Óin was that he was —quite obviously, if the hearing-trumpet didn't give it away already— hard-of-hearing. Apart from that, Óin was a master with healing poultices and remedies, and was therefore appointed the medicine man of the company. He had even invented a medicinal herbal salve —his brother, Gloín had told me proudly— which had since been known as _oin_tment. Oin had invested a significant amount of finances in this quest, which played a role in him wanting to see its implementation through; this in addition to his sense of loyalty to his kinsman, despite being only a distant cousin of Thorin. He seemed quite mysterious and private about his own life, though he understood others emotions well. Even so, he chose not to share his own life except with a select few and he shied away from emotional conflicts, uninterested in getting involved in other people's conflicts.

Glóin —together with Bombur— was the only married man of the company and proud father of a son named Gimli. (Again, the name made a whole siren of bells go off in my head. It really felt like the longer I was in Middle Earth and the more the Dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf told me, the more I started to regain those blackened parts of my memory. Connecting them, however, was far less easy.) Gloín was the most outspoken and opinionated Dwarf of the entire company, and valued facts and evidence over speculation. I mistook his frankness and forthrightness as arrogance at first, but I realised later on that he just wanted to get things done in an effective, systematic and methodical way, no messing about. It was also evident that he was exceedingly loyal to the company and that he took his obligations very seriously. He was fiercely faithful in any endeavours he committed himself to; he would stand by what he believed in and would defend the values of any group he belonged to.

Dori was the oldest and the motherly figure in his little versatile family of two younger-brothers. His hen-like qualities made him to spend most of his time looking out for the rest of the company; keeping everything organized and in particular making sure ill-fortune hadn't befallen Ori. From the moment I had noticed him in Bilbo's home, I saw him as a very neat and orderly person who liked to maintain a reliable sense of structure in all aspects of his life, to make sure everything went according to plan. In that sense, Dori was somewhat out of his depth with the tumultuous quest, preferring an environment where he knew what the rules of the game were in advance, relying in familiarity and past experiences to guide himself rather than imagination and intuition. Though he also came across as relatively quiet and serious, he was rarely isolated and knew exactly where he stood amongst his peers.

Nori had told me one day —when we were strolling along in ease and good-humour on our ponies— that he had had enough of his elder-brother's mollycoddling at one point and had gone out of his own, in search for a life of —what he called— sturdy financial foundations; whatever that meant. The stories of his life of freedom made me believe that he was a very spontaneous figure, ready to throw himself headfirst into what life had to offer and follow it wherever it took him. He was an easy-going Dwarf who could find contentness in whatever situation he ended up in, and whomever he ended up with. The several quarrels that could hardly be ignored on the journey between Nori and Dori, made me realise that he had a strong independent spirit and equivalent inclinations, and would ultimately be guided by no other than himself. Nori was also the most elusive member of the company; no one ever really knew what he was up to half of the time. He preferred a space in the shadows and was a very hard character to get to know. However, (_Due to my intensive personality-investigation... I just love to find out how people work!_) I sensed that, despite not always seeing eye-to-eye with them, he was immensely protective of his brothers and deeply loyal to the people he cares about or causes that are important to him.

The youngest brother, Ori, had a good heart in the right place. That much was certain. He was the third Dwarf who had quite quickly seen us three Hobbits as fully included members of the company, and his soft-spoken and reserved nature —coupled with his somewhat off-beat tendencies— was a welcomed factor to all of us. He was the scribe for the company, chronicling the quest to the Lonely Mountain in the large leather-bound book —held shut by a sturdy dark brown strap and a shiny silver buckle— he wore closely to his heart. I told him one evening that I thought he was a very brave and passionate soul, seeing as it probably took a lot of dedication to trek to the Lonely Mountain for the sake of documentative accuracy. Ori had turned beet-red to the very tips of his large ears, humbly trying to contradict my statements of him being a talented artist; having glanced a peek at his wonderful calligraphy and drawings. He was a very sensitive young lad who was well aware of other people's feelings; but due to his awe for the notorious Fíli and Kíli, I noticed how he often put on a persona to mask his differences in interests, thinking it would get him more included into the tight circle that enfolded the younger members of the company. Though it was probably mostly the fact that he often got bossed around by his brother Dori, that did not help his front to hold, as he abided his oldest brother's fussing with his ever-present politeness.

Now, when it came to acceptance, none other than Fíli and Kíli had been the first ones who had treated Bilbo, Lillian and myself as licensed and approved members of the company; in their own _interesting_ ways, of course.

Though only five years stood between them in age, (which was not much of an age-difference according to the several fragments of Dwarven culture I had remembered from Balin's stories and Ori's helpful narrative), Fíli was indubitably more mature than his younger brother. Even so, he seemed unable to resist in joining Kíli's playful jests and harmless pranks, particularly if they were at poor Bilbo's or dear Ori's expense, or if they could get a good stutter and a blush out of teasing me in particular. The few moments he had been serious around me —mostly at times when his brother would be occupied elsewhere— the blonde Dwarf had told me he had set out on this journey with little idea of what lay ahead of him, hungering for adventure and eager to seek new experiences, as he was utterly bored by the mundane and repetitive tasks he had had to fulfil in the Blue Mountains. A strong individualistic streak implored him to experience significant events and new people himself, rather than living through the recounts of others.  
The quest seemed more to him than he primarily made it out to be, as he called it his 'birth-right' at one point during a shared watch on one of those long and dreary nights. He did not elaborate any further on the matter. Though it was barely impossible to overlook the contagious enthusiasm he held about this journey to retake the Lonely Mountain; but in between the eagerness, there was always a sudden mood of seriousness that clouded his features whenever he mentioned anything that had to do with the long-lost home of his forefathers. But those darker moods seemed to evaporate whenever he tried to share his views, as he became very animated and made use of his wit, humour and skilled mastery of language to communicate effectively and win over his peers. He had better people skills than his brother as he had an adept intuition of other people's emotions; he was able to read what was hidden underneath and able to see the significance in their actions. For my sister, both of these qualities made him a more tolerable person to be around with than his —to her— annoying pest of a brother and she did not mind his proximity as much; though she had still to fully accept anyone as trustworthy.

Now when it came to Kíli, it had been mostly his enthusiasm for adventure that had lead him on the quest. (Above the fact that Kíli would not let his brother go anywhere without him.) He loved putting his talents to the test in risky or potentially dangerous activities, making him an energetic thrill-seeker. That aspect of his character became perfectly clear once he tried to convince me to play a game of trust; which consisted of me balancing an apple on my head while he shot it through its core with his bow and arrow from a distance of fifty feet. Luckily for me, as I barely had the chance to interrupt his excited babble, Lillian had pulled me away from the young menace and had thrown him such a scathing look that even he reconsidered his chances of ever finding someone to play that game with. Even so, he was at his best when responding to emergencies as his ability to adapt quickly allowed him to navigate such challenges. He preferred to live in the moment; long-term goals seemed of less interest to him than achieving something tangible in the present. In social situations he was direct and expressive; people knew exactly where he stood; but that was also because he had a short fuse and got easily offended. (A character trait he seemed to share with his uncle.) He indulged himself —and others around him— in the finer and more exciting things life had to offer. Although he was a very social individual —enjoying the company of others profoundly— he could sometimes be cavalier about the emotions of those around him, preferring to keep things light and fun when perhaps others felt the need for a more serious and sensitive situation. He could come across as blunt and insensitive because of that; though I wondered if he ever meant any harm by it. He really was the young, reckless _lad__ of the company._ Quick to prove his worth but slow to weigh repercussions and think better of risky decisions, making choices that would cause problems his introspective, rather more mature elder-brother had to help him out of before Thorin found out.

Both brothers were the nephews of our leader and they seemed very keen on impressing him. Kíli always seemed to seek out Thorin's eye. The youngest head a little higher with every hard-earned smile or word of encouragement or approval, and flushing with embarrassment at every scolding. Before addressing their uncle, Kíli always seemed to seek out his elder brother's eye and through some sort of wordless conversation he took his position in the argument at hand. Fíli's emotions towards the Dwarf-leader were harder to read, but what was quite clear to me was that the blonde brother wished absolutely anything _but_ to disappoint Thorin.

Speaking of the leader of our company, he was —admittingly— the one I had most difficulty reading. From what my sister and I had overheard in Bilbo's home, there was no doubt in my mind that Thorin had lived a hard life. He had seen war and bore its nightmares, he had gone from riches to relative rags, seemed unfazed by the darker parts that nature had to offer and the permanent scowl on his brow made me wonder about the amount of grief that hid itself behind that stone-hard facade. Even so, all of this did not overshadow the fact that he was a very capable leader. He was quick of wit and had the ability to logically reason his way out of a tight spot or apply brilliant strategies to every incoming problem. Thorin's desire to reclaim his homeland, Erebor, and to restore his people to their former splendour was rooted deep within his very core, that much was crystal clear. I thought it an admirable quality that the Dwarf-leader was so ambitious and driven in achieving his goal; though his rectilinear and decisive thinking did not make him more human. On the contrary, he mainly came over as blunt, critical and brusque to those around him. The Dwarves and Gandalf had apparently already learned to not take Thorin's often harsh words to heart, and Lillian simply didn't care what he thought of her; but the same could not be said for Bilbo and myself as we often felt intimidated by the leader of our company. Though, I suppose, I should forgive him his bitterness —which he wore as an impenetrable emotional shield— as he bore the weight of his people's expectations on his shoulders and probably often worried about the consequences of failing this quest. Losing his people's hope. When that realisation dawned on me —around the ninth day of our journey— I tried to see his stubbornness as an admirable quality of perfectionism, and his severity as the representation of the high standards he sets for himself. But that did not change the weary feeling I had about him; with his mind set so firmly on achieving his ends, I found that he forgot to consider the social cost that his quest demanded. Both for himself and his companions.

My thorough analysis of each and every Dwarf gave me the ability to communicate more accurately and consciously of each personality's emotions and character. My thoughtful inquiries and answers made me an appreciated companion on the long days ambling through vast plains and impenetrable woodlands. Even so, I was not part of the company yet.  
Right after Bilbo had come running into view to accompany us, Lillian and I had signed the contract as well, but we were not among comrades the way the dwarves were; as they were either related by blood or by a fierce bond of friendship and loyalty. Balin and Dwalin were brothers; Dori, Nori and Ori too. As were Fíli and Kíli. Bofur and Bombur were brothers and Bifur was their cousin. And from what I could gather, most of them were in some way or another related and absolutely every one of them was loyal to Thorin, their leader. (Though some more fiercely then others.) I imagined their shared history and their shared sorrow, had forged that —almost impenetrable— bond.

Lillian had her own ways of making herself respected by the other members of the company. Bilbo —attentive as he was— had brought a few of his leather-bound books along, concerning the history of Middle Earth. He had not yet forgotten about the fact that we had seemed very distraught when confronted with some parts of this world. He did not know why, as he still did not fully understand why my sister had profiled herself and me as his cousins, but he did not bother us with questions. He just told us that whenever we were ready to talk about our past, he would be there to listen. In the meantime he had given those books to Lillian, saying she probably wanted to know as much as possible about Middle Earth and all its inhabitants. His thoughtfulness gave him a firm spot in Lillian's goodwill-book, and she had thanked him with a peck on the cheek; making the poor Hobbit turn scarlet and unable to utter a single sound for the following ten minutes.

Whenever she had the chance, Lillian would explore every little detail of those books, occasionally asking Bilbo for further information when something was not clear; and because of the fact that my sister was in possession of an intelligent mind, and she had always been stubborn enough to force herself in memorising every little detail, she became very insightful about the details that made up her surroundings. And above all, her newly found knowledge gave her the respect she craved.

As for the journey itself; it was hard at first but eventually Bilbo, my sister and I got used to the recurrent tasks that had to be done when either setting off on another day, or securing everything for supper and nightfall. The long road continued on and on and on, and the weather became warmer as the days went by; the month of May meeting its end. Cloaks were thrown off, tunics unlaced and breeches rolled up for a flutter of breeze to cool the skin as the sun grew higher and hotter.

On the seventh day we crossed a river called the 'Baranduin' —as Lillian showed me in one of Bilbo's books, laying her finger on a spot of a little blue curve portrayed on one of the many maps inside the yellowed pages— but it was mostly known as the 'Brandywine' for the Shire-folk, Bilbo had told me.  
The pace we held was comfortable, as neither pony nor rider wanted to raise the temperature any further by quickening their steps. If Thorin was in a hurry to reclaim Erebor, than the other members of the company had no qualms in taking their time to get to the Lonely Mountain. Most of the dwarves were saddle-sore quite quickly, and more than a few couldn't seem to stop grumbling about their growling stomachs every moment it felt like it was time for breakfast, lunch or supper. On that fact, Bilbo always agreed wholeheartedly.

By the sign of incoming dusk, Thorin ordered the company to stop for the night and gave everyone their chores for the evening. Fíli and Kíli usually had to take care of the ponies, leading them off the road and into the shelter of the trees. Bifur and Bofur were charged with gathering firewood from the woodland floor, and Oín and Gloín were experts in creating a warm fire with it. Dwalin and Thorin were the lookouts as the others tended to their tasks; Balin and Ori re-captured the events of the day so the little scribe could add it all to his chronicles without fault. Meanwhile, Dori and —more reluctantly— Nori were in charge of doing some washing; a length of thick string hanging between two oaks and dangling from them were long-johns, tunics, handkerchiefs and socks; which could still be dried easily by the descending sun.  
And as the fire simmered ever lower, Bofur took up the task of bringing some merriment to the company and brought out his flute to start up a tune. Whenever it was a known melody some of the Dwarves —mostly Balin or Bofur himself— started a song and one by one the other Dwarves joined in; they sang into the night, long after the shadows had disappeared and the sky glittered with stars, making me nod off more than once as I listened to the solemn vespers of my companions.

The three of us were mostly pointed towards Bombur, helping him cook the various porridges, soups and stews he was a master at creating. I usually helped the rotund Dwarf handing out wood-handled spoons and carved wooden bowls to the others, filled to the brim with nourishment. Bilbo and Lillian had to prepare the different ingredients; though —to no one's surprise, really— Lillian deemed the labour of peeling onions and potatoes below her (even if the real reason was that she couldn't cook anything edible to save her life) and on the eleventh night —as her mood had taken a dive for the worst since her headaches started to come more frequently and the pain increased— she demanded to be given another assignment.

"If I have to peel another _bloody_ vegetable," she mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for me and Bilbo to hear, as we sat in a semi-circle around the cauldron simmering above a warm fire, "I swear to whatever deity they worship here, that I'm going to skewer something."

Thorin snorted loudly and he gazed down at Lillian's seated form as he had stood close enough to overhear my sister's complaint. "You will help this company by accepting the job that was given to you," he rumbled lowly.

Lillian turned around and scowled in his direction. "I _told_ you I was no cook," she accused. "But you just wouldn't listen."

The rest of the company left their tasks for what they were and settled themselves more comfortably in order to follow the imminent discussion with eager anticipation. The entertainment was always a guarantee whenever Thorin and Lillian would start a conversation with one another. It was dinner and a show.

"There is no other task at hand that you can perform," the Dwarf-leader threw back.

"What are you talking about?" Lillian huffed indignantly, waving her peeling-knife around momentarily to make her point come across, "I could easily search for firewood or collect water from a nearby stream or scan the perimeter for any disturbances or—"

"—All of those suggestions would estrange you from our campsite," Thorin cut her off gruffly.

"And?" Lillian questioned impassively. "Afraid I wouldn't come back? Would you really miss my absolutely pleasant and irreplaceable company _that_ much, oh fearsome leader?" She mocked, her lips pulled into a pout and one petulant eyebrow arched.

"You would have no means to defend yourself with, if the situation called for it," Thorin rumbled authoritatively and the truth —combined with something akin to veiled concern— in his reasoning left my sister speechless for a few moments.

"I can take care of myself," Lillian mumbled in between clenched teeth, her eyes cast down and staring into the fire under the cooking-pot. "But if that is what you are concerned about," she continued more loudly, addressing Thorin again, "then give me something so I _can_ defend myself."

Thorin simply rolled his eyes at the -to him- ridiculous statement.

"What now?!" Lillian bristled. "I'm not asking that you give me an enormous battle-axe or anything of the sort! A sword of some kind would suffice."

The vein on Thorin's forehead started to pulse in increasing annoyance. "We don't have any swords to spare."

Even though the Dwarf-leader's piercing scowl would have any other keep their mouths shut at this point, Lillian did not want to give in. "How about a bow?"

"No."

"A dagger, then?"

"No."

"A spear?"

"No."

"A skillet?"

"No."

Lillian lifted her eyes to the sky dryly. "A pointed stick?"

My sister's irony was met with the snickers of some of the Dwarves —even the more reserved members of the company, like Balin and Gandalf, couldn't fight their smiles— but Thorin did not join in on the light-hearted fun. Instead, he sounded more angry than I had ever witnessed before when he spoke again.

"No! You will obey my command and perform your current task for as long as you accompany us on this journey!" He thundered, and all sounds of laughter instantly died down. "Do I make myself clear?!"

Lillian was biting her tongue so hard, her cheeks started to resemble the colour of her hair. I could practically see her counting to ten, in order to stop herself from bursting out into a hysterical fit. The Dwarves around us started coughing awkwardly in their fists and tried their hardest to look like they had not been aware of any discussion happening in front of their eyes, at all. Only Dwalin, who had sat on a large boulder behind Thorin, stared Lillian down with a warning glare. Whether he gave her that look to warn her not to overstep her boundaries, or because he found she had gone far enough already and had earned a one-way ticket back to the Shire in his opinion, I did not know.

The one who did make himself heard in the following loaded silence, was Bilbo. "Lillian, please be reasonable," the Hobbit sussed gently. "Even if you had a weapon, you wouldn't know how to use it anyway. Let us keep you close and safe," he reasoned, his voice evident with concern. "Please, you would have your sister and myself worried sick if you went out into these wild lands on your own."

Lillian's thunderous scowl lifted at Bilbo's soft-spoken words and the comforting position of his palm on her elbow. Her jaw visibly unclenched when the meaning, the friendship and appreciation behind his words sunk in, and she met the Hobbit's eyes with the faintest trace of a smile.  
The tension that had hung heavily in the air up until that moment lifted when all of us saw that Lillian looked ready to end the needless argument and restore the carefree mood of the company.

Only Thorin still challenged the new-found moment of calm. "I asked you if I had made myself clear," he still demanded of my sister, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

At that, Gandalf gave the Dwarf-leader a pointed look; but even if the wizard felt like Thorin was being too harsh, he didn't say so out loud, as he probably knew by now that my sister was independent and smart enough to fend for herself.

Lillian turned back to face him, "Perfectly," she spat with all the venom she could muster; admitting defeat with great aversion, but with a glint in her eyes that told me her disputes with our leader were far from over.

Their little quarrel made them avoid one another for the remainder of the evening, however, and the light-hearted mood from earlier that day settled back over the camp. Fíli and Kíli —like so many evenings before— came to sit either side of me, making it impossible for me to stop flushing and stuttering at the combined attention they invested in me. Bilbo kept a close eye on the brothers antics and interfered whenever he found that I deserved a break from their presence.  
The one person who didn't so much as glance my way that evening was Lillian; which was strange as she always came to my rescue whenever I felt overwhelmed by the Dwarves' attention. But it only took me one look at her pale profile —twisted and contorted in an expression of contained agony, her eyebrows drawn low over her closed eyes and her jaw set— that told me my sister was once again experiencing the pain that came with whatever memory she was currently reliving.

But there was nothing I could do without attracting the attention of the other members of the company. And, as guilty as I felt about it, I tried my best to ignore Lillian's struggle. Knowing full well that she would not be grateful if I betrayed my concern for her to anyone else. She was strong, I believed that much; and she was capable to take care of her own.

But curse it if it didn't hurt to see her like this.

The following morning the caravan of ponies was once again on the road, the early rays of sunlight shining on our faces through the leafy tree-canopy. But the beauty of the early morning could not distract me from the fact that I could feel my sister's ribs protruding through her dress as I held on to her slimming frame, nor the way her face looked completely _ashen_, nor the fact that the bags under her eyes had darkened and indicated she had trouble getting a good night's sleep.

Though no matter how many times I told my sister to share her burdens with me, she refused my help with one severe look in my general direction; the intensity in her eyes able to freeze anyone to the bone and render them utterly silent.

_"But I do believe that you will regain your memories on the journey that lies ahead of you."_ Gandalf had said, and his words formed a bitter taste in my mouth for the first time since I had last reflected upon our conversation in Bilbo's home.

If this was the way how we would regain our memories, than I wished they would never come back to us at all. I felt relieved that I had not yet experienced a flashback as agonizing as my sister had, but that did not mean that I didn't feel for her greatly.

For once, Lillian and I seemed to share the same thoughts, because when Gandalf came to ride beside us that day, she turned her head to face him, her eyes hollow and her voice hoarse. "This journey better be worth it, Gandalf."

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**~Will be continued ~**

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**A/N:** Hope you liked it! Also, take a look at my DeviantArt account (you can find a link to it on my main page here) to view all the wonderful art made for this story! And don't forget to take a look at the poll on my Main Page when you have the time! ;)


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